


Italiano Song

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Abuse, Arguments, Childbirth, Childhood Friends, Choosing Yourself, Concerts, Crisis of Faith, Dogs, Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, F/M, Fairs, Festivals, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Having Faith, Home Childbirth, Humor, Infidelity, Makeover Fails, Matchmaking, Miscarriage, Outdoor Sex, Parades, Period-Typical Racism, Pet Adoption, Pets, RAINSTORMS, Rivalry, Romance, Rooftop Sex, Season/Series 04, Slice of Life, Spying, Summer Vacation, Vacation, meddling relatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Canon Divergence for Season 4.  What if Laverne's grandmother had taken a shine to Lenny instead of Squiggy during the course of "The Festival" and figured out that he had a crush on her granddaughter?
Relationships: Frank De Fazio/Edna Babbish, Laverne De Fazio & Shirley Feeney, Laverne De Fazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Anthony De Fazio, Shirley Feeney/Carmine Ragusa
Comments: 22
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old baby of mine, revised and reposted here.

"Whaddya mean, two dollars for a sausage sandwich?" Andrew Squiggman drew himself up a few inches, his dark eyes flashing malevolently at the guy manning the festival's sausage cart.

"You read what it says, mack. I got a supplier to pay off, and it ain't like carnival season lasts all year!" he said.

Squiggy turned to Lenny Kosnowski, standing eternally beside him in a bright blue Hawaiian print shirt. "Lenoard, my good man, punch this creep in the face."

Lenny's hands were already lost in his back pocket. Triumphantly, he found his wallet, then the four dollars secreted within it. "Sorry, sir. My buddy's real hungry." He paid, received the sandwiches, stuffed Squiggy's into his clenching fist, and smiled mildly as he dragged his best friend away.

"What were you doing?" Squiggy cried out. "You was supposed to clean that guy's clock!"

"Squig," Lenny whined, "did you see how big he was?"

"Not no bigger than you, stretch," Squiggy noted, sarcasm in his tone.

"Ha ha. This's New York. Mister DeFazio told me that they put you in jail for spitting on the street here!"

Squiggy frowned. "Boy, that stinks! There's only two fun things to do on a sidewalk, and they get rid of one of 'em!"

"What's the other one?"

Squiggy's smirk was telling. "Len, ain't I taught you anything?"

"Sure! Gee, Squig, it weren't for you, I'd still be afraid of linoleum!"

"Then how come you ain't spendin' your nights in the company of a nice broad like Fifi Jorgenson?"

"It ain't easy, getting a girl like Fifi!" Lenny protested. "'Sides, you had her after you said you'd comb her mustache."

"Len, my good buddy, you need to learn a little lesson from the lovvve doctor." His dark eyes danced as they followed the jiggly path of a tall brunette in open-toed shoes. Before Lenny could stuff his fist into his mouth in response, Squiggy smacked him in the chest with his sandwich. "Here. Watch my rust," Squiggy straightened his spine, striding over to the girl as she studied the dunk tank. 

Normally, Lenny would fixate upon this sight; try to learn something from Squiggy's flirtations. But at the opposite end of the street, a lithesome form on the sidewalk drew all of his attention.

He grinned broadly and thrust the food out. "Hey, Laverne...wanna sandwich?"

"You know what I want, Len?" she replied, tone harsh, and she seized his lapels. "I want you to stop blackmailing Shirl with those pictures!"

"Why? Carmine deserves to know the truth!" Lenny pointed out, trying to shrink back from her touch.

"Well, it ain't like Carmine's mister chastity himself," Laverne tartly noted. "Remember Lucile? Besides, you ain't doing it for Shirl, or even Carmine; you're doing it so you can have something to hold over her!"

Lenny wavered visibly. "Okay..." He fiddled with the camera hanging around his neck until its backing popped open. With a quick yank, he exposed the film to the daylight. She seemed surprised by the speed with which he'd turned tail, but his loyalty was hers, not Carmine's. "But what if Carmine beats me up?"

"You don't gotta worry about that. If he tries to hurt you, I'll punch him out."

"Gee, thanks, Laverne. You ain't gonna tell Squig I gave this to you?"

"No!" Laverne grinned as he handed her the film. "Thanks, Len! You're a real pal."

The word 'pal' cut through him more keenly than any switchblade, but he smiled bravely. "You're welcome...." She walked away, flagging down a muscular sailor with a handlebar mustache.

Everyone, it seemed to Lenny, had fallen in love to some degree in the summer heat of New York. Laverne was chasing boys left and right, Shirley was pining for Carmine...when she wasn't chasing the boys Laverne didn't want, and Squiggy was very friendly with his new lady friend. Really friendly, Lenny thought to himself glumly as he walked right by their animated conversation without his friend noticing. Boy, Squiggy was great with the ladies. She was even showing him her native version of the handshake...Lenny wondered why anyone would want to greet a loved one with hands firmly wrapped around the neck, but he was certain it was just a nice custom.

Lenny wished silently that someone would notice him; he had nothing to do, now that his secretive documentation of Shirley's romance had been called to a halt. At least Squiggy still had his role as Laverne's 'boyfriend' to play for her grandmother. Bored and mildly forlorn, he summer heat made him turn to their temporary encampment in the DeFazio brownstone. 

He thought it was awfully nice of Laverne's grandmother to feed them on such short notice, even offering a couch for them to sleep on. He and Squiggy had communally made the decision to sleep on the floor of the living room, to avoid cramping the already-close quarters. It had worked out amiably; Frank slept in what had been his old room and Laverne, Mrs. Babbish and Shirley took the woman's spare bedroom. 

The marginally cooler and much darker DeFazio apartment welcomed him with silent approval. Lenny found a pitcher of lemonade on ice on the dining room table; without tags to indicate whom it belonged to, he shrugged and decided to take a cool glass with him on an exploration of Grandma DeFazio's home.

Within a few minutes, he decided that there wasn't much interesting about his new entertainment plans. Maybe it was the disparity in their ages or his short attention span, but nothing caught the hot blankness of Lenny's conscious state as interesting or fascinating. 

He had decided to sit down at the dining room table and eat his sandwich when the glitter of polished wood caught his eye. Lenny stopped in his tracks and leaned backward, until he recognized the object; a curio cabinet, standing against a wall on carefully crafted legs. He put the half-empty glass of lemonade on the floor and knelt before it - the glowing doors swung open on smoothly-oiled hinges. Anyone could see that this was the heart of Grandma DeFazio's very earthy existence; Lenny had a feeling that she had carried it all the way from the Old Country. No wonder she walks all crooked, he thought to himself. Then he peered into the sunlight-streaked interior, leaving the DeFazio clan's lives laid bare before his wide eyes.

It was a lot of stuff; neatly ordered, carefully maintained stuff, most of which he could not name. Pushing aside what he instantly considered non-interesting, Lenny noticed Frank's army medals. They made Lenny suddenly recall that Mister DeFazio and his father had served together in World War II. Both men had been called home early from Germany, upon the death of Laverne's mother and the desertion of his own, only months before the war had ended. The painful memories faded like the browning certificates and withering pictures that came to light; he sat still at the sight of Laverne's First Communion Photo.

She could make him thoughtful and happy, just with the sight of her. He remembered that face too well; the thin lips that were covered by white-gloved hands, giggles pouring between the fingers. His own First Communion had taken place on the same day. They had taken their commitments so seriously back then, and he had hated her grave look, then as now. Going to church had always made him nervous, so he had tried to shatter the tension by making her laugh - by doing something cheerfully juvenile like hanging upside-down from the thick limbs of the elm in front of St. Mary's and sticking his fingers into the corners of his mouth, turning them gruesomely downward. She rarely laughed so hard as she did in her youth after her mother died, he remembered. Even now those laughs were guarded, and when they escaped it was unexpected - like a daisy growing up in a rose bush.

"She is a special _bambina_ , no?"

Wide-eyed, his yanked his arms out of the curio and then flailed them protectively, barely missing a state of the Virgin Mary with his awkward hands. "I didn't mean to open yer stuff, Mrs. DeFazio."

"No, no; it is fine. The family is not impressed with these old treasures any more." She gingerly knelt beside him and withdrew a brass frame. "Laverne's _nonno_ was so handsome that day!"

Through the sheen of the glass frame, Lenny recognized Laverne's grandmother; the shape of her eyes, the set of her chin, and her nose had been carried down through Frank and to the object of his affection. Mrs. DeFazio's stare held a mild sense of defiance; he knew that the tall woman in the funny feathered had and heavy, long coat was not someone to mess with.

The man beside her; shorter, significantly less attractive, with thick eyebrows and a gleam in his eye, lay tentative-seeming hands on her gloves. He had never met Laverne's grandfather, the man having died when Frank was in his early twenties, but Lenny could see the love that had lain between the two DeFazios.

"That's real neat," Lenny said. He shifted his gaze back to the framed picture of Laverne's first communion. "And this," he gestured toward the montage of framed photos of Laverne, "is really, really neat."

The older woman consumed his faraway expression and unseeing melancholy with sage experience. "She is a pretty one," Mrs. DeFazio said, her tone somewhat cagey. She climbed cautiously to her feet. "You will come now, and have lunch with me in the dining room, no?"

Lenny meant to refuse her; he'd left his sandwich there, right beside the fresh china she'd set out. But he wasn't any good at refusing the elderly. "Okay," he submitted quickly.

The delicious aromas rising from the table drew him the short distance from the hallway to the dressed table. He reached to help her serve, but she insisted on dipping out a thin broth of chicken, carrots, studded with balls of ground meat and spice. She explained that it was called 'Wedding Soup.' As far as Lenny was concerned, it could have been called Toasted Lint Ball Soup; it was delicious. Not as delicious as Turkish taffy and Bosco, but good enough to urge him into finishing three bowls. 

"Such a good, strong boy!" Mrs. DeFazio praised while ladling him a fourth; she had finished two herself, plus two slices of warm semolina bread to his four, dipped in spiced olive oil. 

"It's real good, Mrs. DeFazio; we don't get grub like this at home." She didn't scold him for speaking with his mouth full, to his relief.

She judged him quietly. "You must not eat so well in Milwaukee."

Lenny looked up, the spoon of broth poised in the air. He looked askance before saying, "we eat a lot at the Pizza Bowl. Mister DeFazio's real nice about it."

"I know what Fabrizio does with his money," she allowed her spoon to dip briefly into the clear broth before raising it once more. "He has a good heart."

"Oh yeah." Lenny nodded his head. He noticed that Mrs. DeFazio didn't scold him for talking with his mouth full and liked her more.

"Leonardo..." she said, her tone smooth as she stirred sworls of spinach to the surface of the soup, "you do not go to this Pizza Bowl for the trattoria only."

Lenny's skin turned a light pink, and the spoon slid from between his clenched fingers; his attempt to reveal nothing exposing everything.

"Ahh. It is something more, no? Someone? A lady? Shirley?" She watched his face carefully. "The bambina?"

Lenny tried to rise from the table, ready to make any sort of excuse necessary to avoid what would be another embarrassing and pointless conversation about his useless wants.

"Ahh, the strains of _amore_ on a heart are like a weight," she noted sadly. "And to be in love with your friend's girl! Your friend does not know?"

Squiggy! He'd forgotten about that lie. "Nah." He busied himself by staring into the breadbasket, taking another slice.

Her hands met his as they pulled away; he noticed how rough they felt, well-used. Lenny never knew that a woman's hands could feel so much like a workman's. Her eyes pinned him down like an unwilling butterfly to a shadowbox.

"She doesn't love Andrew."

The statement didn't leave further room for a lie. He shook his head, eyes returning to the mellow, salty broth.

"Then she is in love with another?"

Another shake of the head.

"And you love her?"

His ears turned bright red.

"Poor child. You look for my granddaughter, but where is she? Fooling with those boys on Mulberry Street! Silly bambina; always, she runs after the ones with the biggest arms, the widest smile, without a thought for the pain to her heart! You see how she has beaten herself against the walls with hoods? That has not changed since I hugged her goodbye on the day we buried her mother! Why did she think she might fool me, when I know her as well as her papa does?" 

Lenny was alarmed by the woman's rising anger. "Gee, Missus DeFazio, don't be mad! Don't you got a bad heart? Do ya need water? I'll get ya water..." 

Her grip on his hands remained firm, so he did not leave the table. "Tell me, why does she not notice a man so tall, with such strong hands?"

"Who?"

She tilted her head, deliberately keeping her eyes locked to his.

"Me?" Lenny shrugged. "She don't want me, Mrs. DeFazio."

"She might, Leonardo. She doesn't know her heart, and she will listen to her grandmother's voice when she sees I like you."

"Boy, that'd be a first!" He scoffed, then felt instant shame at his reaction.

"I yet have ways of making her pay attention."

"Really?" His hope rose to an audible level.

"There is no living woman that knows her heart as I do. With these hands, I pulled her from her mother's body and washed her...I held her as the priest at St. Michaels baptized her...I nursed her to life when she burned in a fever so high her own mamma had prepared for her funeral." She took a relishing bite of the bright yellow bread. "Now you see that I know all of her, Leonardo. You may trust in me."

Lenny's eyes widened as he listened carefully to her. "You really did all that?"

"Yes."

"Are you magic?"

She laughed. "You are good. You make me laugh, and you are sweet as sugar. That is what she needs, what she is missing, what she has never had."

"But I don't see..."

"I will show you the key to Laverne's heart. But we finish the soup first."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ante up, child.

"...And the lady loses again!"

Laverne sucked on her lower lip, anger temporarily marring her features. Her mouth hardened into a flat, pink line as she mentally ran over her finances. Bless her impulsive nature; it won the day, of course. 

"Three more balls." She pulled open her purse, pushing through packages of tissue and unspent raffle tickets to find a crisp knot of dollars hidden beneath her mimeographed painting of the Virgin of the Forrest. Laverne slapped her money onto the counter decisively, and the overworked owner of the booth spared her a wary, exhausted grimace before retrieving his wares from an old milk crate. She easily caught each ball as it rolled to her hands in a flurry of worn-out yellow fuzz; their weight felt right and just heavy enough in her palm. Laverne laid her handbag upon the white, flimsy counter, and prepped her pitching arm, eyes lit with determination. Concentrating, she tried to remember being three, when sinking a rubber ball through the middle of a toilet seat was the easiest thing in the world.

Her first throw went wide, striking the ground with a force that echoed in the chatty streets, engineering catcalls and mocking shouts from her former neighbors. Through the suddenly blistering sunlight she could make out their faces, peering from windows, passing by the booths, all of them finding something funny about her sudden inability to throw a ball. Gritting her teeth, Laverne placed a little more English on her second try...and the ball careened off the rim of one of the seats, bouncing sharply against the back of the neck of the booth's vendor. He turned to stare her down, holding his bruised body.

"Aww geez, I'm sorry!" She apologized with sincerity.

"Out! Out of my booth!" He tossed two dollars in her general direction, and she watched them flutter forlornly to the counter before her.

"But I got a toss left!"

"I don't care! Go!"

Laverne was in no mood to argue with the man; besides, she was pretty sure that balloon vendor from the night before was still looking for her, and making too much of a fuss might bring her unwanted attention. "FINE!" she growled, scraping her money off of the counter and spinning around on her heel. Those who had crowded around to watch her pitch knew from experience that an angry Laverne was not a pleasant Laverne, and gave her a wide berth as she stomped up the street. The young DeFazio barely noticed, her anger a consuming passion when directed at no solid target.

Geez, it wasn't like she meant to hit the guy! So what if her aim stank? Laverne had never claimed to be a pitcher - she was a batter and a runner, and she didn't need everyone she had known from infancy on up to tell her that. But being given the Bronx cheer by her old friends was par for the course of what was developing into a truly lousy day. She scowled as dark clouds began to roll in overhead, obscuring the sun and making the mid-day light milky. Even Mother Nature was pooping on her party.

All of the fun Laverne had enjoyed the day before had evaporated last night, when her father had announced his determination to climb the greased pole at the end of the festival Sunday. Visions of Frank falling to the ground clutching his back, of her spending the rest of her life pushing him around in a wheelchair, were lodged behind her eyes. She had tried to talk him out of it over breakfast that morning, using the most practical of her arguments- he had a bad back from the war, he was almost sixty-five, he would only worry Edna and Grandma if he tried such a stunt - but all fell on deaf ears. He knew his physical limitations, but when it came to his mother he lived only to impress her. 

Well, what about me? Laverne wondered. Her father seemed completely oblivious to his daughter's concern, as though it weren't her responsibility to watch out for his safety. She considered going over his head and asking her Grandma to discourage him. But Laverne knew that the older woman was inflexible and that if she tried to have a serious conversation with her, the point would be buried in effusive praise or obscured by an Italian language pop quiz. Laverne recognized this weakness in herself, but felt ill-equipped to fight with a woman she so revered. Such debates belonged in the sensitive and delicate hands of women like Shirley.

Not that Shirley was very good at being a delicate, sensitive woman nowadays, Laverne thought tartly. At that very moment, her best friend was staring avidly at some lost treasure at the Met, on the arm of Laverne's cousin Anthony. Laverne smiled to herself at the memory of the slightly panicked look on Anthony's handsome face as Shirley excitedly dragged him into town that morning. The poor boy knew nothing about art at all and he clearly worried about finding himself somehow outclassed intellectually by Shirley. He probably didn't have to worry; Laverne felt that Shirley wasn't very interested in Monet and DaVinci at the moment. More likely, she was trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of flirtation before she explained to Anthony about Carmine. Sooner would be better than later in that case - the "Big Ragoo" had called twice during breakfast, and Miss Feeney had been so preoccupied with fluttering her lashes at Anthony that Laverne had been forced to lie and say that Shirley was 'indisposed'. She had taken a bit of joy in elaborating during his second call that that meant 'in the bathroom'. Despite her offered jocularity, Carmine's voice held a querulous tone of jealousy that made Laverne feel uneasy, as though things were already getting out of hand.

With that thought, Laverne felt a swath of guilt wash over her at her own bitterness. Shirley deserved to have a little fun outside of her relationship with Carmine - as he had done so himself with women like Lucille Lockwash in the past. This vacation would have simply been Shirley's turn to explore other options - if only Carmine hadn't suddenly decided to become the protective boyfriend. At least Shirley wasn't flaunting her attraction to Anthony in Carmine's face, as he had done to her with Lucille and a few other girls. And Shirley, Laverne noticed with wry disaffection, wasn't taking payment for occupying Anthony's Wednesday afternoon. 

Laverne realized, deep down, that her piquant feelings in regard to Shirley's relationship with Anthony had little to do with Carmine and more to do with her own lack of date material. Somehow it was fitting that, even a hundred miles from home, she drew the attention of only the most unsavory types.

It was bad enough that all of the eligible boys in the neighborhood were married and cheating or married and religious or promised to the priesthood - worse, her cousins refused to introduce her to their local, single buddies in a show of protectiveness. It wasn't fair - _he_ knew that she wasn't really with Squiggy and had no excuse! After the fireworks the night previous she had lucked into meeting a handsome sailor with dark hair and green eyes -he bought her a hot dog and a soda, and they'd walked toward the ferris wheel at the end of the block. She had tried to discover his name, but had settled for a little necking under a street lamp on San Angelo Boulevard instead. He had been in the middle of asking her to come home to his place when she noticed the dull gleam of a gold band hanging on a chain around his neck. He explained he was engaged - to a girl working in the Peace Corps - and she understood that men had needs. Laverne's palm, unfortunately, was the least-understanding part of her body, and she sincerely hoped that his cheek still smarted. 

Just as she reached the block where her grandmother's building loomed, the sky opened up in a sudden downpour. The streets ran with water, hydrating the pavement and the few trees springing up from the concrete and bringing an early end to the day's festivities. Laverne pushed her way through the retreating crowd, finding the steps as thunder rumbled through the air. With a muttered 'aww, geez,' she pulled her cardigan over her head, shielding her hair from the suddenly pounding storm. 

The vestibule of her Grandmother's building was dry and still quite warm from the day's sunshine - helpfully, it was also deserted. In the four minutes it took for Laverne to stuff her money back into her purse and strip off her sopping cardigan, Shirley barreled through the heavy double doors, turning quickly and waving at a shadowed, huddled figure taking shelter beneath the flap of a white tent out on the street. 

"Bye, Anthony! Have a good day!" She followed him up the street with her eyes, then leaned back against the door, running her fingers through her soaking wet pixie cut, a fatigued and yet rapturous look in her eyes.

Laverne studied Shirley for a minute - her ladylike best friend sported a bright pink sundress, speckled with a white swiss dot pattern, a tiny white purse emblazoned with a large pink fabric flower, and open-toed white sandals. While her appearance was one of a cultured and delicate young woman, Laverne also noted the bright sparkle in her eyes - a definite, marked difference between Shirley's usual shy reservation and a woman just beginning to find her own power.

"Have fun?" Laverne teased.

"Oh yes, yes..." Shirley murmured, her voice vague and dreamy.

"Shirl, I though you were letting Anthony down easy!"

"I am! I did! I don't know!" Shirley began to blubber. "I started to tell him about Carmine on the way back from the museum, but then he told me I was as beautiful as a Botticelli! So I kissed him on the cheek to thank him, and then..."

"He went for the gums." Laverne stated, trying to keep humor from her voice.

"What am I going to do? If Carmine finds out, he'll kill Anthony!"

"Anthony can take care of himself," Laverne shrugged. "He used to box, too."

Shirley sniffled, and Laverne wrapped her arms around the tiny brunette's shoulders. "It ain't that bad, Shirl. I won't tell Carmine, and I talked Lenny into giving me the film with that picture of you two kissing on it, so if he tries to say anything there's no proof."

"You did?! That's so nice!" The word 'nice' caught in Shirley's throat and was lost in a hiccup.

"You're my best friend, Shirl; there ain't much I won't do for you."

Shirley rested her head against Laverne's shoulder for a moment.

"If you want, I'll even tell Anthony you got a boyfriend. If I ain't allowed to have fun, neither is he."

"No, Laverne. I'm the one who initiated things with Anthony, and it's my responsibility to let him go. Don't worry; I have the poise, grace and dignity to maintain a platonic social relationship between us." 

"He makes ya think of Carmine, doesn't he?"

"Right down to his yummy chest." 

The two girls climbed to Mrs. DeFazio's apartment in silence, dripping water up the stairwells as they went. A mouth-watering odor wafted down the final set of steps, perking up their end of the journey.

"My grandma's making wedding soup!" Laverne called enthusiastically down to the landing, where Shirley - who had given up on trying to ascend in her tractionless, wet sandals and was in the middle of pulling them off- stood. "Come on, you're gonna love it!" Laverne broke into a run, pushing open her grandmother's unlocked door...

...to find Mrs. DeFazio and Lenny, watching each other with scrutiny over a hand of playing cards. 

"Gin!" Called Mrs. Defazio, her tone merry.

Lenny pouted, dropping his hand onto the table. "Shoot! You beat me again!" He gathered the scattered jacks and queens and began to deal them. "Double 're nothing!"

"Very good. But I warn you, Leonardo; my tutor was the great gambling master Stavros Aachimer! And who was your tutor?"

"Squiggy!"

"Ante up, child."

"GRANDMA," Laverne shouted. 

The older woman looked up from her cards, clearly startled. " _Bambina!_ When did you come in?"

"I've been standin' here for two minutes!" The door opened behind her, admitting Shirley, who passed her in one unbroken stride. "Shirl, ain't I been standin' here for two minutes?"

"Hello, Mrs. DeFazio," Shirley waved as she headed to the spare bedroom, ignoring Laverne's complaints. "Excuse me, I need to change; I'm afraid I'm soaked through."

Lenny bit his palm.

"Leonardo, are you well?" She'd begun to reshuffle the cards and deal him a new hand.

"Yeah, Mrs. DeFazio. I just do that when I like something."

"Yeah, LIKE something," Laverne retorted shortly, her tone making Lenny shrink in his seat. "Grandma, do you want me to start dinner?"

"Not yet; there are things I need from the grocer. Are you hungry?" Laverne nodded. "Poor _bambina_ ; change your sweater and take some soup."

Laverne strolled into the kitchen - audible over the sound of cards being dealt was the sound of her sweater sliding down the laundry chute. After a moment of silence, she whined, "the soup's gone!"

"What? I made enough for six people!" She smiled and winked at Lenny. "Leonardo and I must have finished the entire pot! He has such a healthy appetite!"

Laverne slammed her way into the sitting room; her eyes fixed on Lenny. He cowered before bravely holding out his still-wrapped meal and saying, "you want some of my sandwich, Laverne?"

"Is it something disgusting?"

He shook his head. "Sausage."

She peered at him curiously before gingerly taking it. Carefully, she unclasped the wax paper, then took a tiny bite...which became a large bite. "This is real good!"

" _Bambina!_ Chew with your mouth closed."

"Sorry, Grandma."

Lenny turned back to their card game. "Got any twelve's?" Mrs. DeFazio set the cards before him. "A full house?!"

Mrs. DeFazio scooped the cards up and began to pack them back into their cardboard home as Lenny whined his protest. "Now, I start dinner! Laverne, would you mind going to the market for me?"

Laverne gulped down the rest of the sandwich enthusiastically. "Course not."

"Would you take Leonardo with you?"

"Len! Are you botherin' my grandma?"

"Not at all!" Mrs. DeFazio retorted, before Lenny could defend himself.

"Then why do ya want me to take him with me?"

Laverne's grandmother seized Lenny's hands, almost pulling him across the table. "These hands are big and strong! See how they might help you carry large bags?"

Laverne released an aggravated sigh. "Whattya need?"

"A dozen zucchinis, two dozen tomatoes, and a wedge of parm."

"Gee, I ain't weak, Grandma! I can get that for ya alone!"

"Laverne, may I see you in the kitchen?"

The granddaughter followed her grandmother's doddering progress to privacy. Once they were alone, Laverne noted the shrewd expression on the older woman's face and understood herself in trouble.

"Uh... _belle notta_ , grandma?"

"Speaking Italian won't help you this time, Bambina."

Laverne's stance shriveled a bit as she asked, "whatt'd I do wrong?"

"Do not think I have no trust in you, child. But if I let you go to the market alone, you would not come back until past dinner...and probably with a hickey on your neck."

Horror streaked Laverne's features. "Grandma!"

"Do not think me an old fool, Laverne."

"I didn't..."

"Do not think that I cannot hear what our neighbors say when you aren't here! Do you want your father to know that you spent last night necking with Paulo Feccunucci, a married man? The whole neighborhood talks already! You may behave any way you wish in your Milwaukee, but in my New York you have a family's reputation to live up to!"

Laverne's eyes bugged out, and she couldn't stop herself from gasping. For all of the aggression her Grandmother had just shown, her next sentence was simultaneously tentative and reproachful.

" _Bella_ Laverne," she sighed, stroking Laverne's cheekbone. "You must be careful with your love. These boys, they are beautiful in the face, but rotten at the heart."

"I try to be," Laverne noted, her tone wounded and breathless. "But I never know which ones are rotten unless I try -" her cheeks flamed, and she spun from her Grandmother's touch and turned toward the range. "That's a pound of tomatoes, right?"

She understood, but did not add to Laverne's humiliation with further questions. "You will hurry back from the market, no?"

"Uh-huh," she turned to kiss her Grandma's cheek, then began to move toward the door. Suddenly, she paused and turned to face the older woman one more. "Grandma...what I did with Squiggy didn't fool you, did he?"

"Not for one second."

"Who told on me?" she pouted. 

"An honorable, kind, wise man...with large hands."

Laverne's pout became a frown as she shoved through the kitchen door. In an instant, her eyes were locked upon Lenny and she knew all.

"You ready?" Lenny smiled.

"I'm gonna kill you," she hissed in return.

He kept a noticeable distance from her throughout their long, rainy walk to the Mulberry Street market.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends wherever they go.

In his two days of being a Brooklynite, Lenny had learned one thing for sure - that Italians knew how to cook. The meaty, herby fragrance of sausages wafting down Newbury Street from the open doors of Grandma DeFazio's favorite marker acted as a refresher course, and Lenny's hangdog stride, a reaction to Laverne’s angry words, became longer. He left her behind and in the rain, pushing open the door of San Angelo's Market with a jingle.

Lenny couldn’t help but let out a loud “Wow!” as he took in the beautifully organized and maintained store, and was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pretty-looking stuff in his surroundings. The place was much bigger than their usual supermarket in Milwaukee - all in one location were the butcher, cheesemaker, baker and green grocer. That was a true wonderment - an entire town in one store. He examined the stacks of organized cans like an eager toddler, and had picked up an oddly-shaped melon to figure out how someone would eat it when he heard a door slam.

“Lenny!” her voice made his hands clumsy; the melon tipped end-over-end and fell with a bounce to a pile with its brethren. 

While Laverne’s voice was menacing, the sight of her was hilarious; she’d borrowed Shirley’s rain bonnet and her grandmother’s overcoat, which slumped down past her kneecaps. As he laughed, it dawned on Lenny that it was his fault she was soaked to the bone. 

His expression changed to one of concern. "I'm sorry..." 

"Forget it." Laverne whapped him in the chest with her pocketbook - Lenny 'oofed' in response - and pushed past him to the cheese section. He followed, never more than a step behind, though occasionally distracted by something shiny or unusually-shaped. 

Laverne crouched over the glass-and-steel dairy case, where an assortment of cheeses were attractively stacked. "Here we go." She scooped a large, orange round out of the rabble, listing backward at the added weight. Laverne strained, regaining her momentum and boosting the wheel into Lenny's arms, then pulling her purse free of his grip. The acrobatics required for those tasks nearly sent him to the floor, yet Lenny managed to keep his balance and the cheese. Laverne headed over to the vegetables while Lenny waddled along beside her.

Bending over the pile of bright red tomatoes, Laverne plucked two from the jumble and began examining them with learned fingers. Then she sniffed the tips, her expression more suited, Lenny thought, for surgery or holy miracles. She tossed one back, and then picked up another, performing the same ritual. After fifteen minutes she nodded, dropped one into the pile, and placed the other in the crook of her arm.

Lenny couldn't take it. "Laverne, you're doin' it wrong!" 

She ground her teeth.

"You ain't supposed to sniff tomatoes - you're supposed to pinch 'em. If the skins're thin, then they're too ripe..."

She dropped the vegetables, sending them bouncing back into the mound and causing a chain reaction. The fruit rolled to the floor and surrounded their feet. "See what you made me do?"

Lenny frowned, the weight of the cheese almost pitching him forward as he bent to help her re-stack the tomatoes. "Who spat in your cornflakes today?"

"Look in a mirror."

He pouted. "You don't gotta be mean, Laverne - it ain't my fault your grandma saw through your dumb lie."

"It wasn't dumb, and she woulda never found out if you hadn't told on me!"

"We ain't little kids no more, and that's a little-kid excuse. You know it ain't right to lie to your grandma, she's a real nice lady."

Laverne jerked to a standing position, her feet bratily stomping down on two overripe tomatoes. "If you think you know so much, Len, why don't ya find the tomatoes without me?"

"FINE!" With Lenny's angry words, she flounced away to attend to the final item on their list. Stone-faced, Lenny finished cleaning up the tomatoes and gathered six more to buy using his own method. When he finished, he went in search of Laverne, and found her standing in line at the checkout stand.

Her eyes were cool as she tried to carry both her purse, the cheese and six zucchini to the counter. Lenny stared straight ahead, jaw locked but his anger melting. He felt Laverne's body heat - heard a little grunt from her as she balanced on her toes in her high heels. Looking down and she was trying to peer over his forearm and examine the tomatoes, his last thread of anger melted away. 

"They look good," she begrudged.

"Told ya. My method's foolproof."

"Figures," Laverne muttered. They stepped up to the counter together and laid out their goods. She seemed to recognize their clerk, and he recognized Laverne - the stout old man's cheeks turned cherry red and he came around the corner, speaking a flood of words in Italian.

Lenny stood aside as they hugged, confused to the rapid patter of language. Laverne managed a 'hi' in what might pass for Italian as the older man patted her cheek and cried 'bella!'.

"Len, this is Mister Agranastio - he lives under my Grandma."

An expression of surprise crossed Lenny's face. "Where's she been hiding him? 'Cause me and Squig went through the closet yesterday morning and there weren't no one...."

"Never mind."

Mister Agranastio gestured toward Lenny, smiled, and shook his hand. With a heavy accent, he said, "you take good care of Laverne?"

"Uh...yeah." Lenny tried to hide his confusion. Mister Agranastio ended the handshake, heading back behind the counter and picking up a pen to figure out their total. As he did so, Lenny tried to make eye contact with Laverne, but she had picked up a copy of True Confessions and was busy reading it. Lenny shrugged and settled for oggling Elizabeth Taylor over Laverne's shoulder. 

Even upside-down, that girl was a babe.

Before the upside-down part could register with Lenny, Mister Agranastio pushed his figuring pad toward him. Lenny poked Laverne. "He wants five dollars."

She jumped. "Huh?"

"It came to five dollars."

Laverne smiled abashedly, putting the magazine back and unclasping her purse. "Liz is dating Rock Hudson," she said, then handed Mister Agranastio a five.

"Didn't she just get together with that dick guy?"

"Len! Be nice!"

The older man pulled the lever on his antique cash register and he placed the money inside, then he handed Laverne a bright penny.

"Oh, you don't have to, Mister..."

Another rapid string of Italian words. "Okay... _Gracias_...I mean, _Gratzi._ " Mister Agranastio gestured toward the stack of paper sacks next to the register, then back to the food - that meant they had to bag the groceries with those sacks.

Lenny selected one, blew it open and started randomly arranging the food. He stopped when Laverne's hand encircled his wrist.

"You don't put the cheese there, Len - it'll squish the tomatoes," she pushed the cheese against the bag's left side, then propped it up with the bag of zucchinis. The tomatoes were placed last, directly on top. 

Lenny folded the bag over and picked it up. "Thanks, Vernie."

Her smile was tentative. "Welcome." 

Though the rain had ceased to a trickle as they left the store the air still felt thick and humid, clinging to Lenny's skin like a sweater. Laverne matched his stride down the walkway, and she broke the ice between them.

"I'm sorry I yelled."

"S'Ok. I'm used to it."

"But you were right - those tomatoes are good." She stuffed her left hand in the pocket of her jeans. "I acted like a brat back there, Len. I guess comming back to Brooklyn is harder than I thought it'd be," she admitted. 

"Why?"

"No dates, lousy weather, my Pop's gonna kill himself in that pole climbing contest, and if people ain't tearing me down for trying to date around, everyone automatically thinks I'm married, just 'cause I'm old enough to BE married." 

"That's not fair. And it wasn't nice of that mister agent-yo to..."

"Mister Argentio is a nice guy." Laverne interrupted.

"He wasn't mad we mashed his tomatoes?"

"I dunno - I can't speak Italian. My point's that they just want me to be happy."

"That's nice and all - but not being married don't make you a bad person or something."

"I know that."

"Then why didn't you tell your grandma the truth in the first place?"

"'Cause it makes her worry - watch her when we get back. She'll start trying to fix me up with anything nice, tall, and in pants. How could I turn down her hopes like that? I can't even tell her I don't speak Italian."

"But the truth's gonna come out, Vernie. Mark my words."

"No it won't. All I gotta do is smile and nod a lot. And as long as she thinks I'm happy it'll be okay."

"Are you happy?"

"Yeah." Her tone didn't convince him.

"But you said 'think'. Do you think you're happy?"

"I meant 'am,'" she said brusquely.

"Oh. 'Cause I always thought you were happy...just guessing from listening through the dumbwaiter during your heavy dates."

"Len..."

Something caught his eye, and he stopped dead before an alleyway. Lenny's hand encircled her forearm, bringing her to a stop. "You see that?"

Her eyes darted - they stood in a gutter next to a drain. "What?"

He squinted through the misty gloom - then tugged again. "There!"

Laverne's eyes widened. "Len, I don't wanna stand in the middle of the street...it's raining, and hot, and the rats are fifty pounds in this neighborhood..."

"It ain't a rat, Vernie!" He dragged her down the path by the wrist.

"Are you crazy? We're gonna get mugged!"

"What're you scared about? You know how to fight. You're the best gal fighter I've seen since Peaches Pfontaine!" He released her, pressing the sack into her hands.

"But you can't punch a guy holding a gun!" Lenny turned from the conversation and ducked behind a dumpster. "Len! You're gonna get bit!"

"No I ain't!" His voice echoed.

"Whatt're you doing?" Silence. "What'd you see? Jar of sauerkraut make you homesick?" She snickered.

"Come look."

Laverne crossed the distance between them. "I don't wanna make out - " she trailed off at the sight before her.

Lenny crouched over a shaggy form curled up against the dumpster. The creature visibly breathed - Laverne absently realized it was a german sheppard, about three years old - but its thin frame and dirty fur spoke of horrid neglect. Lenny didn't notice Laverne's pause - he worked furiously at untying the sheep shank knot anchoring the dog's clothesline leash to the trash unit. 

"Len, be careful..." she urged.

"Why?"

"It might bite..."

"Nah. She's a nice girl."

"She?"

"Stay still, honey - I'll help you." As if in agreement, the dog tentatively lapped at Lenny's wrist while he worked on the knot.

Laverne knelt beside him, holding out her hand. The dog watched her warily. "Hi. You're a nice, aren't you?" The dog lifted its head and flicked its tongue weakly against her wrist - confirmation enough that Lenny's instincts were right. "See? Told you, Laverne."

While Laverne patted the dog's head, Lenny gave the leash one strong yank and it fell apart in his hands. Lenny sighed from the exertion, watching Laverne gently stroke the dog.

"How long you think she's been out here?"

"I dunno," Laverne said. "She's real thin. Maybe a few weeks." She heard Lenny let out a muffled curse. "But we got here in time - she don't seem sick, just hungry. The people at the pound will..."

Lenny pulled back protectively. "Maggie ain't going to no pound!"

She stamped her foot impatiently. "Len - she ain't yours, you can't name her."

"I don't see anyone else making a claim!"

"You can't take care of a dog!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause you couldn't even take care of a turtle!"

"Don't you bring poor Myron's name into this!"

"What about Squig? You live with him - don't he deserve a say in this?"

"He never asked me if I wanted to live with a bunch of moths," Lenny replied. "Confidentially, Laverne, they all give me the creeps - I dunno why a guy as cool as Squiggy would wanna live with bugs!" 

Laverne chuckled, then shook her head. "Whatt'm I laughing at? This is never gonna work out, Len."

Lenny cupped the dog's bearded muzzle and pointed it toward Laverne. "Can you resist those eyes?"

She looked down into them - brandy-colored, with black irises - dazed, vulnerable, and sweet. "Aww geez..."

***

"Of course, you may keep her here!"

Laverne knew that her grandmother would never deny a dog a home, but her pleasure at the animal's presence was surprising - Grandma DeFazio had only owned cats, as far as she knew. The older woman stooped to pet the dog behind her soggy ears, and Maggie remained still for a moment - unsure - then leaned into the elderly woman's touch. 

"Laverne, we must get -"

"Maggie," Lenny put in.

"-Maggie supper and some water." She unbent herself, wincing at a twinge in her arthritic back.

"What about dinner? I got you some nice zucchini, Grandma..."

Grandma DeFazio took the sack from Laverne and examined its contents. "Ahh, they are ripe and firm! And the tomatoes are perfect."

"Lenny got the tomatoes," Laverne admitted.

"Leonardo, you are skilled beyond your years!"

"Aww, Mrs. DeFazio!"

"I am not false flatterer," she smiled, folding the sack down. "You both did very well. But your father - he called from the drug store - 'don't bother with dinner, Mama, I'll take care of it, Mama' - he's bringing home a pizza!"

"You mean I got all wet for nothing?" Laverne whined.

"Bah! If I had not sent you, you would not have found Maggie!" She patted the dog affectionately, and Maggie soaked up the sudden attention. Turning for the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, "come along, Laverne." 

As automatically as Maggie might, Laverne followed her Grandmother into the kitchen.

There, Mrs. DeFazio rummaged through her refrigerator while Laverne - paralyzed of further motion - stood alone at the center of the room. It only took a minute for the older woman to emerge with a Tupperware container filled with leftover meatballs, and then she noticed her granddaughter standing in the middle of the kitchen and tisked her. "Bambina, run the water. And take off that raincoat - it's soaking the floor!"

Robotically, Laverne stripped off the coat and rain bonnet and draped them on a peg near the radiator. "Sorry, I was thinking." She headed to the sink and opened the taps.

Grandma DeFazio's smile was all-knowing, and went uncommented on by her granddaughter. "You had a nice time with Leonardo, no?"

Laverne's shoulders stiffened. "It was okay."

"I saw your hand in his when you came inside." Laverne, still as a rock, made no reply. "It is fine, bambina. I understand the desires of a woman -"

Laverne's cheeks blazed. "Lenny's my friend. That's all."

"Ahh..." Grandma appeared by Laverne's elbow, pressing a small plastic bowl against her palm. 

Though she tried to suppress it, sharpness poked through Laverne's tone when she replied, "Ahh?"

"Nothing." The older woman wiped her palms against her apron and returned to the meatballs. 

Laverne felt heat creep through her throat - in a tone that she would later be ashamed of, she turned to the older woman and said plainly, "Lenny's a nice guy - too nice of a guy to lead on."

The older woman's sharp tone rebuked her granddaughter. "Do not take that tone with me, _principessa._ "

Laverne's cheeks colored. "I'm sorry. I just don't want ya to get your hopes up..."

"Hopes? I keep no hopes - but dreams, I have." She picked up the meatballs and headed out the kitchen. "Do not waste water, Bambina - every lost drop makes a high cost."

Laverne flicked the taps closed, anger warring with shame inside of her mind. Her grandmother had no right to wheedle and insinuate about her love life - but her sense of respect and love for the old woman were great. She had been harsh, sharp of tongue - her worst qualities on display.

Her head bowed, she entered the living room and gingerly placed the dish of water at Maggie's side. The ravenous dog was already nearly finished with the meatballs and dunked her bearded chin in the water, lapping away at the dish with her pink tongue.

"Poor thing - how she must have suffered with the heat..." Mrs. DeFazio worried, sitting on her couch.

Lenny, who had been hovering anxiously over Maggie, took a seat beside Laverne's grandmother, his shoulders slumped in relief. Laverne settled lazily to her Grandmother's left. Their silence communicated the mutual realization that the most important thing right now was Maggie's well-being - and it was her sudden bark and abrupt dart to the door that shook them out of their mutual ennui.

"Maggie!" Lenny called sharply - despite Lenny's commanding tone she blocked the doorjamb, barking and wagging her tail. He stopped her from exiting the room by angling his legs around her body and opening the door - and being smacked in the jaw by a box of pizza.

Confusion showed on Frank's features. "Edna, do we got the right place?"

"Honestly, Frank - you can't confuse our madhouse with any other madhouse on the planet!" Edna stumbled over Maggie, who lapped curiously at her hand.

"The pizzas go on the table!" Mrs. DeFazio called.

"Forget the pizzas - where did the dog come from?" Now that Lenny had possession of the pies, Frank could see the german sheppard as she leaned against Edna's skirt-covered legs.

"Leonardo found her in the rain." Explained Mrs. DeFazio, as she laid four plates upon the tables and began slicing away at the pepperoni pizza with a butter knife.

"Yeah, she was hot and hungry - ain't no tags on her, either."

Edna patted the dog with detached kindness. "Are you waiting for the pound to get her?"

"No, Missus Babbish," Lenny stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried to appear his most appealing. "I wanna keep her."

Edna's expression darkened. "Lenny, I think it's only fair of me to warn you - you and Squiggy have been skating on thin ice with me for the past three years..."

"But Missus Babbish..."

"And I've rejected better tenants just because they had a cat - "

"She needs me, Missus B." Lenny said. His tone was surprisingly strong, and Laverne noticed that Edna seemed somewhat taken aback by his firmness. "You've been real good to me and Squig, and I know we ain't been the best apartment-living-guys. But I ain't doing this for me," he gestured toward the dog. "I'm doing it to keep Maggie safe."

"You named her?" Edna's stiff mask wavered.

"It ain't right for anyone to go without a name," Lenny said - his words and tone making a sentence simultaneously innocent and wise. 

"I don't know..."

"I'll vouch for him," Laverne said, rising from the couch. Everyone - especially Lenny - seemed surprised by her outburst. 

"You know what you're saying?" Lenny asked. 

She didn't seem to hear him. "If Maggie does anything that wrecks their apartment - any more than it's already wrecked - you can take it out on my cleaning deposit."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Edna worried. "Shouldn't you talk about it with Shirley?"

Laverne smirked. "It's her fault they live in your building. Besides, Shirl can't resist helpless animals."

The door slammed open. "Hello!"

Maggie barked, trotting happily up to Squiggy. The shorter man kept his arms wide open, alarmed by the furry creature's appearance. "You were right, Len - she was hiding the Abdominal Snowman under the floorboards!"

"That ain't the Abdominal Snowman - it's a dog."

"I knew that!" Maggie sniffed vigorously at Squiggy's pant leg, and Andrew made no move toward the dog. "I just got confused - I ain't seen that much fur since we dated the Nussbaum Twins."

Lenny bit his palm and Squiggy chuckled. 

"So, who's it belong to?"

"Who?"

"The dog, dummy, the dog."

"Don't call me a dummy, or I won't let ya brush her!"

"Who says I wanna brush the dumb dog?"

"Don't you call my dog dumb either, you jerk!"

"Did he just say it was his dog?'" Squiggy asked Laverne.

"Yep."

"Who said I wanted a dog?"

"Who said I wanted moths?"

Squiggy's jaw dropped open. "You said you loved Andie and Baggy and Chirpy and Chirpy Junior and..."

"It's called bein' nice, Squig!"

"It's called lyin', Len!"

"Boys, don't fight," Laverne ordered.

They both gave her the most venomous of looks. But Laverne noticed that Lenny's eyes softened when they fell on her - and showed total weakness when they found her grandmother. 

"I ain't gonna back down on this, Squig. I'm keepin' Maggie," he said, his tone even.

"You named her Maggie?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me -"

"Maggie is a pretty name - Laverne's great grand aunt's first name was Margaretta. In America, we called her Maggie."

"Wow - it musta been hard, having two names," Squiggy thought aloud.

"Right, Andrew," Laverne snickered, and he punched her in the arm.

"Maggie wore them well - she was a woman ahead of her time. Much like my bambina." Laverne's grandmother flipped a slice of pepperoni-laden pizza onto a paper plate, and then held out the enticing piece to Squiggy. "Are you not hungry, Andrew?"

"Uhmm.."

"Do you not wish for a nice, big meal?" She wove the pizza beneath his nose, and then pulled it tantalizingly away.

Squiggy followed the pizza, his body bobbing. "Yeah..."

"Do you not wish for Maggie to have a nice home with Leonardo?"

"Yes..." he muttered, zombie like.

"Then here is your pizza!" Grandma DeFazio handed the slice to Squiggy. Andrew took the plate, his eyes welded to the steaming slice of pie.

Lenny turned to Laverne and asked, "how did she do that?"

"I wish I knew," Laverne snorted. They moved toward her grandmother's table to receive their own dinner.

Yawning, Shirley emerged from the bedroom. "What is that wonderful smell? I'm famished!"

Squiggy's boisterous chuckle cut through Laverne's attempted warning. "I see London, I see France, I see Shirley Feeney's underpants!"

Shirley's eyes bugged out. Covering her slip-clad bosom, she shrieked her way back to the bedroom.

As Lenny and Squiggy hooted and congratulated each other Laverne asked her grandmother, "you see that?"

Grandmother DeFazio chuckled. "They were only having fun, bambina."

"At Shirl's expense." She pulled a slice of pizza out of the box, watching the mozzarella make a stringy curtain as she placed it on her plate. Laverne crimped the dangling cheese off of her slice of pie with a fingernail. "That's why I don't go with Lenny."

"Perhaps there is more to the book than its cover."

Laverne snorted. "That's what he's always saying: 'I'm a pretty deep guy, Laverne - you don't know me, Laverne. I know him, all right - I've known him since we were kids, and in fifteen years he ain't changed once!"

"Do not be upset - you will get indigestion," Grandma DeFazio retrieved a piece of pizza for herself, closed the box, and clapped her hands together. "I will get the baby pictures!"

"Aww, not the baby pictures," Laverne whined. But her Grandmother rushed over to the china closet and opened it up, pulling out two leather-bound volumes. The gang gathered around her as the older woman carefully settled onto the couch - Laverne at her grandmother's right, Lenny beside her, Frank in the neighboring easy chair, Squiggy on the floor cross-legged, and Edna on a chair pulled over from the dining room table, with Maggie lying between the coffee table and couch. 

She flipped open a heavy volume, and on first sight of Laverne's infant form, Squiggy let out a piercing guffhaw. "Hey, who's the shrimp?" 

"Me!" Laverne replied.

He laughed. "That can't be you! That person's a baby, and you're sixty million miles taller than that!"

"These are old pictures, Squiggy." Lenny explained.

"Don't try to make me more mixed up!"

"Yeah, you're mixed up enough as it is."

Squiggy pouted - until Grandmother DeFazio placed another slice of pizza on his plate.

Grandmother DeFazio gently flipped the yellowed pages, pausing before a picture of Laverne as a baby, bare-bottomed on a fur rug.

"My pretty bambina," Mrs. DeFazio sniffled. "How big you've gotten!"

"Hey, I always knew there was nudie shots of Laverne somewhere!" Squiggy crowed - and then received a light kick to the back from Lenny. The blond ignored Squiggy's complaint and squinted down at the pictures in the album.

"Look at this one - Laverne DeFazio, twelve years old - hey, I remember that haircut!"

Laverne winced at the living memory of her Dutch-boy hairdo. "Shirl did that! Said she'd make me look like Myrna Loy..."

"I think you look real pretty." Lenny said. She smiled.

"Thanks, Len." Laverne felt a shock of surprise at the warm sentiment they shared.

"What did I promise you?" Shirley wondered as she came back from the bedroom, having changed into a plain white blouse and skirt set, the collar turned up inordinately high. "What's that you're all looking at?"

"Laverne's naked patootie," Squiggy shrugged.

"I'm so embarrassed..." Laverne whined.

Shirley peered over Grandmother DeFazio's shoulder as she got a piece of pizza. "Baby pictures!" she squealed, in a tone so high that Maggie howled in pain.

The little brunette let out another squeak when she found what had replied to her noise. "Hello doggie! You're a cute little honey bunny bug..." Maggie walked over to Shirley, sniffing at the girl deeply - as if trying to figure out if this chatty thing was a friend or an alien being. "Whose is she?"

"Lenny's." Every other voice in the room replied.

Shirley's eyes bugged out. "But Leonard..."

"Shirl, he can handle the dog." Laverne insisted.

"But..Lenny Kosnowski..." Shirley sputtered.

"He really loves Maggie - we found her in the street tied to a dumpster. She was starving to death. If he hadn't found her..."

Shirley melted. "Oh, sweetie!" she bent to pet Maggie, but the dog backed away from Shirley, whining. The little brunette frowned. 

"I don't know why my voice has that sort of effect on animals..."

"Look! It's little Laverne on the beach!" Grandma DeFazio called from the couch.

"Hey, I didn't know she had a mustache!" Squiggy chuckled.

Laverne gave her best friend a sympathetic grimace before pasting on her best fake smile and joined her family on the couch. 

***

The rest of dinner passed by unremarkably - even though Laverne's grandmother had a knack for finding every embarrassing picture Laverne had ever taken. They dispensed with their paper plates and, with the rain still pounding outside, settled in for a night of watching Uncle Miltie. After the show, they entertained themselves for an hour by inventing their own routines - which lasted until the downstairs neighbors began to pound on the floor. They separated and retired to bed at a depressingly early nine o'clock.

In her pajamas, Laverne read a beloved, dog-eared copy of "True Confessions" while Shirley gargled in the hall bathroom. She had already had her turn in the bathroom. Edna had just finished brushing her hair and was putting sheets on her cot, which had been placed beside the master bed on Shirley's side. Laverne and Shirley had been forced for the first time in a long time to share a bed, a condition they tolerated but by no means enjoyed. From the bemused expression on Edna's face, Laverne guessed that Anthony hadn't been completely successful in eliminating all of the ants from their nesting place in her borrowed green blanket. "Does she always take this long?"

Laverne left Carlotta in the middle of her struggle with the county guard. "Did she finish flossing?"

"No."

"It'll be another fifteen minutes."

Edna yanked the collar of her bed jacket over her eyes. "Honestly - even your father is faster in the be - never mind."

Laverne was so engrossed in Carlotta's struggles that she didn't hear Edna's misstep.

"Well, I had fun tonight - even if we were all cooped up."

"Yeah - who knew Squiggy could juggle?"

"It was Maggie that surprised me - she's a very talented dog for a stray. I've never seen a dog come out from the streets and be able to sit on command right away. And she and Lenny have a real connection. I had a shepard once myself - an old farm dog we called Ibiza. She ran off with a pup from the neighboring farm. Then my husband ran off with the neighbor. That was divorce number two."

Shirley entered the room, her face caked in a green rejuvenating mask and her crisp pink nightie in place. "What are we talking about?"

"How talented the boys are."

"Oh! Edna, I didn't know that Frank just rivals Carmine in the singing department." Laverne bit back a snicker. Shirley was definitely overestimating Frank DeFazio's talents.

"I'll pay for your earplugs the next time he tries it," Edna yawned. "It's getting late - I'll see you both in the morning."

"Okay - I guess Carlotta can wait until then." Laverne placed her True Confessions on the night stand and fluffed up her pillow.

"Would anyone mind if I left a low light on?"

"Shirl, Squiggy was kidding about the cockroaches being as big as pillows - Grandma's building is inspected every year, anyway."

"I'm not worried about cockroaches - or anything, for that matter. I wanted to write in my diary."

"You still keep a diary, Shirley?"

"Why yes, Mrs. Babbish - it's my most constant companion."

"Like her pigeon toe."

"Laverne, don't be jealous."

"I'm not. Night."

"Goodnight."

Laverne swaddled herself in the covers - it was suddenly cold, and Shirley would try to hog them as soon as she finished writing. Then Laverne squeezed her eyes shut, trying to sleep - but found her worries all-consuming.

"Shirl." she whispered into the dark, turning toward her friend's side of the bed.

"What is it?" Shirley didn't look up from her diary.

"I think Grandma's trying to set me up with Lenny."

Shirley chortled. "Really, Laverne, it's too late in the evening for you to pull a silly prank..."

"I'm not kidding."

She paused to consider this - and shrugged glibly. "And I thought your grandmother was a tasteful woman..."

"Stop being mean! She isn't the person I'm worried about, anyway."

"You're afraid of hurting Lenny?"

"He's always kinda had a crush on me - this thing with my grandma's making it worse."

"Pshaw! I think you've made it perfectly clear that you're not interested in a romance."

"Shirl! I want advice here!"

"Well, just turn him down gently. Like I did with Ned Sterns."

"Did you ever get those ballet slippers back?"

"That was Ducky Kerns, and no - and that's not my point. Why are you so worried about what Lenny Kosnowski feels?" Shirley placed her diary on the floor, beside a sleeping Edna, then clicked off the tiny red night lamp and wriggled beneath the covers. "It sounds like you're developing a bit of a crush on him!"

"No!" Laverne replied hotly.

"Thou dost protest too much," Shirley muttered. While she quickly found sleep, Laverne sat awake for hours more, staring at the ceiling.

The lesson she had learned that day rang pure in her mind. Lenny Kosnowski had stood up for himself. He actually had a spine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking the dog - and finding an enemy.

"Laverne! LAVERNE!!"

"Five more minutes, Pop..."

The wall of darkness separating Laverne from reality receded with a harsh yank. Her eyes slammed open as she rolled back and away from the intruding stream of buttercup-colored light illuminating this intruder to her dreams. As she came to consciousness, Laverne recognized the voice of her tormentor.

"Mercy's sake, get up - you're not going to get anything accomplished by being a lazybones!" Shirley declared, her striped blue dress and flowered apron making her positively the clone of June Lockhart.

Laverne glared up at her best friend. "What time'zit?"

"Nine AM."

"Shirl, I wanted to sleep in..." she whined.

"Oh, fine - they're having the Parade of the Virgin today, and, according to your Grandmother, you wouldn't be able to sleep through that even if you were deaf!"

The words penetrated Laverne's foggy state. "The Parade of the Virgin!" She stretched and yawned, climbing out of bed. 

"Yes, the Parade of the Virgin - hurry up and get dressed, the oatmeal's getting cold!"

"Oatmeal?" She was wide awake now - and shaking Shirley. "What happened to my Grandma?"

"Calm down!" She pulled Laverne's grasping fingers free of her blouse. "Your grandmother took Edna and Mister DeFazio to see your Uncle Nunzio on the Lower East Side. She asked me to make breakfast for the rest of you and start work on the lasagna for tonight."

Laverne sighed her relief, slowly, visibly, calming. "Geez, Shirl, you scared me to death!" She bent over the side of their bed, pulling out her plaid suitcase and unzipping it. 

"Well, I'm sorry. Squiggy's been driving me mad this morning -"

"What'd he do now?"

A crash. Shirley's eyes bugged out, her arms locked at her sides as she marched into the kitchen. "ANDREW!"

"WAAH?" Squiggy whined.

Laverne shook her head at the warped domesticity between the two brunettes. Selecting a pair of cut-offs and a white halter blouse, she zipped the suitcase, and then walked to the hall bathroom. After going through her usual morning routine, Laverne emerged, fresh, dressed, and ready for breakfast - lumpy as it might be.

In the living area, she found an organized brand of disaster.

Squiggy sat in the middle chair on the left side of the dining table, a napkin tucked into the collar of his tee-shirt. He was lustily eating a pile of burned-to-black toast, dribbling crumbs all over the table, dish, his lap and the floor.

"...And you'll eat every last piece you burned!"

"Yeah, so what? I like my toast like this!" Squiggy retorted - spraying more crumbs across the table, as Shirley squealed her disgust. 

Laverne selected a seat out of Squiggy's firing range and settled down. An empty bowl and a refolded copy of the New York Times made her realize that Lenny was already up and gone for the day. When Shirley returned to the kitchen, Laverne leaned over the table.

"What'd you do, Squig?"

"Nothin! That roommate of yours is nuts!"

"Squig..."

He scratched at his ear. "So what if I broke your Grandma's toaster?"

"SQUIGGY!"

"What?! I already paid for a new one outta my vacation fund -"

"You mean Lenny's vacation fund..."

"What's going on with you and Lenny?" Squiggy smirked. "If he's lucky, something's going down with you and -OW!" He winced away from Laverne, rubbing his forearm. "What'd you punch me for?"

"There's nothing between me and Len. Nothing."

"Right..."

Shirley emerged from the kitchen, carrying two bowls teaming with oatmeal - she placed one before Laverne, and then occupied the chair to her left. Laverne smiled her 'thank-you', then picked up the carved silver spoon sitting on her saucer. She plunged it into the oatmeal, withdrew - and pulled out a gluey string of brown wheat. She gulped.

"What kinda oatmeal is this, Shirl?"

"Instant."

Laverne gulped again. "Have either of you seen Len?"

"He's downstairs, washing Maggie in the lobby - where are you going? You didn't even touch your breakfast!"

Laverne had already left her chair behind, opening the front door. "Maybe he needs me."

Shirley shook her head, staring at Laverne's vacated chair. "I don't know what's gotten into that girl..."

"Lemme give you a hint - it starts with L and ends with nowski."

The little brunette gave a dramatically false chuckle. "Don't make me laugh, Andrew! There isn't any way on God's green earth that Laverne could be interested in Lenny!"

"Mebbe so, mebbe so. But weirder stuff's happened."

"Like?"

"Like the aliens kidnapping Abe Lincoln's head..."

"You featherbrain! That never happened!"

"Boy - don't tell me you're missing out on your daily news!" Squiggy shook his head. "I know what I'm getting you for your birthday - a year of Sci Fi Monthly!"

"That's not necessary..."

"Yes it is," he tilted back his glass of orange juice, draining it. He shook the empty glass in Shirley's direction. "You got any more back there?"

Shirley gritted her teeth. "Anything to keep you from getting up..."

***

Laverne paused to clear her mind of all thoughts oatmeal-related before striding down the landing to the building's ground floor. Lenny was easily located as he knelt in the middle of the vestibule before a soaking wet Maggie, his tee-shirt and face dripping with water, massaging shampoo into the dog's thick fur. Maggie resembled a Himalayan snow beast as she sat in one of Missus DeFazio's old washtubs, seemingly weary of the experience - her eyes brightened noticeably when Laverne entered her range of site. Then again, so did Lenny's. 

"Need some help?" Laverne offered.

He looked up - and as distracted as he seemed, offered her a grin. "Can you get her belly?"

Laverne knelt to Maggie's unoccupied left side, and reached for the half-full bottle of shampoo lying tilted-over to her left. Laverne squinted at the bottle. "This is Shirl's good conditioner."

"Aww - I didn't look before I picked it up - I'll buy some to replace it..."

"The stuff that costs five bucks!"

Lenny's eyes turned guilty. "It was all I could find in the bathroom - you won't tell, will you?"

"Not if we leave a little bit," Laverne dotted her palm with a droplet of the creamy rinse, then reached under Maggie, her fingers working through the sopping fur to create a rich lather. "D'you brush her before you started?"

Lenny worked his soapy hands across the dog's neck and then across her throat - his response was delivered in a teasing voice. "Yes, I brushed her before we started - don't touch her tail, Laverne, she don't like that - and I got a bunch of gunk off of her."

"Why don't she like her tail touched?" 

"I dunno, but that's why I'm all wet - she kept moving around and hitting me in the face with it."

"Maybe that's to show how much she likes you."

"Ha ha."

Laverne had guessed from Lenny's appearance and happiness to see her that washing Maggie had been a bit of a trial. When he started to wash the pup's front legs, she swiped the top of his head with her tongue as if asking for forgiveness.

"Hey! That tickles, Laverne!"

Laverne looked skyward. "It's not me." She stroked bridge of Maggie's snout. The dog's amber eyes closed and she leaned back into Laverne. Laverne noticed then that Maggie wasn't a purebred Sheppard - there was raffia of curly locks about her neck, and her honey-brown eyes, bearded muzzle and the shape of her snout suggested that she was a mix. With what, Laverne couldn't tell - the shepherd in her was easily recognized. "She likes being touched a lot for a stray."

Lenny snorted. "Everyplace but the tail..." he trailed off thoughtfully. "That make her, y'know, weird?" 

"When I volunteered at the animal shelter with Shirl most of the strays didn't like being touched. They were used to people being mean to them or leaving them alone - some of them had been tied up for a long time, like Maggie. A lot of them were put to sleep," the memory was surprisingly hard to recount - Shirley had come home crying most nights, and it had been Laverne's job to keep her going, keep her belief in the nobility of her outlet. Laverne pushed it all aside, trying to remain glib. "None of them had a thing about their tails, though." She tugged gently at Maggie's, and the dog gave a warning growl.

There was an extra wetness ringing Lenny's eyes. His voice came out thickly. "Who would kill a dog, Laverne?"

"No one wanted to kill them - but sometimes, they were too dangerous to be put with people, or there wasn't room at the shelter. It was worse before Shirley started complaining about their policies, 'cause before that they used to kill dogs because no one wanted to take them."

"But, maybe they didn't try hard enough with them - maybe they didn't take long enough or say the right things..." A tender feeling overcame Laverne - Lenny sounded like a little boy whose balloon had been popped. "Maybe they didn't give them enough love."

"But sometimes, it just ain't enough."

"That ain't right," he asserted. "It ain't right to give up on anything, 'til you know it ain't gonna work."

Laverne was stunned. Lenny Kosnowski had always had an extra measure of faith in his soul. Even as a child, he had been the last one to leave church every Sunday, so busy was he occupying God with prayers - some selfish, some magnanimous. She knew from bitter experience that petitioning the saints was a semi-successful enterprise, and it wasn't guaranteed to bring happiness every time - she had gotten a new bicycle, but her mother had died of cancer. She had spent many fruitless hours as an eight-year-old trying to tell Lenny that he couldn't pray himself over the poverty line, or bring his mother back into his life, and eventually he had listened to her. So she had thought.

"She belonged to someone. They left her out there to starve. I wanna find 'em and rip their lungs out -"

"I know."

"You know?" He seemed surprised by the notion that they shared a common feeling.

"But..."

Lenny scoffed. "You're gonna say I should just forget what they did?"

"No - but we don't know who she belonged to. And there probably ain't a way to figure out for sure." Lenny's face elongated into a sallow-cheeked display of misery. "What matters is that we stopped her from dying. That sorta makes you a hero."

He into her eyes. "Nah."

"Yeah!"

A tiny smile spread across his lips. "No one ever called me that before. 'Specially you." 

Laverne had been silenced by his tone. She had always been nice to Lenny - told him how sweet he was. But she'd never told him she was proud of him or praised him - and she sensed that Lenny rarely won praise from women generally. It occurred to her that she'd never FELT pride for him - never until now.

Maggie whined softly, licking at Lenny's face - that broke the sadness in this atmosphere. He wrapped his arms around the dog's neck and gave her a big hug. Maggie's mouth opened, her eyes snapping and bright. Laverne felt herself smile - they were a natural pair, as natural as she and Shirley, and Lenny himself with Squiggy. 

"I got her all soaped up." Laverne interrupted.

Lenny retrieved a pitcher of clean water from the floor beside him - she recognized the old plastic pitcher as having belonged to her grandmother - and dumped it over the dog's back. After refilling the pitcher twice, all of the soap had been rinsed off of Maggie's back. But Lenny knew what was coming. "Don't shake, don't shake -"

As prematurely trained as his dog seemed to be, she couldn't disobey her natural instincts. Laverne and Lenny were saturated in an instant. 

Laverne had thrown her hands out in a protective measure, but Maggie's vigorous squirming ended up coating her thoroughly. As she tried to shake the water from her coppery hair, she heard Lenny's laughter - his bubbly snort was infectious. Laverne met his eyes over Maggie's neck, and she swiftly looked away. 

He began to mop up the floor with a towel, wadded it up, and then offered another one to Laverne. The final towel he used on Maggie, who sat on his command and submitted to the rubdown with surprising agreeability. He picked her up and placed her on the floor outside of the tub, then dried himself, then picked up a red comb from the floor and slipped it into the hip pocket of his jeans. 

"I gotta go back upstairs. Can you watch her for me?"

Laverne suddenly realized that she'd left her money in Grandmother DeFazio's apartment. "Nah, I'll dump out the tub - and I gotta go upstairs for my purse. Whattya need? "

"Where you going?"

"The storm break?"

"Yep."

"I guess back to the fair. Whatt're you gonna do for the rest of the day?"

"Take Maggie for a walk - this book Squiggy got me from the library says she needs to run around a lot. After that, I dunno."

"Did you get her a leash?" Lenny produced a bright red collar and leash from behind himself. "Where'd you get those?"

"Squig bought 'em down at Woolworth’s."

"He bought them for you, you mean." Lenny shook his head. "Squiggy spent money on you? You know that's a sign of the apocalypse."

"He's a nice guy, Laverne. I know you don't know that part of him, but - "

"I don't want to know anything about Squiggy's parts," she chuckled. She carefully lifted up the tub of water, the weight making her bow-legged. She negotiated the sloshing tub carefully, worrying about spilling more water - she had no idea how she might open the door. 

When she looked up, it was cracked wide.

"Thanks, Len."

"Thank you."

After waddling down the front step and finding an open drain, she dumped the pan out - managing not to get herself wetter. Then she came inside to collect the shampoo, comb and damp towels, which Lenny gave over - to her surprise, he had dried up the vestibule, and had even thought ahead and brought a dry shirt to change into. Laverne gave Maggie an affectionate pat before heading back upstairs.

The scene had not become any more placid.

"...For the fiftieth time, don't put your finger in the sauce!" Shirley said.

"Then how're we gonna know if it needs more garlic?" Squiggy asked.

"WE'LL NEVER KNOW, BECAUSE NOW I NEED TO THROW IT AWAY!"

Laverne made herself invisible - she replaced the lost shampoo, and then put the comb among Lenny's things. She found her purse in the bedroom, and there she toweled and powdered her damp chest and hair, then switched into a sea foam-green halter top. Finally, she tossed the towels and her wet blouse down the laundry chute. 

"Hi, guys..." She began.

"NO MORE PEPPERS! I HATE PEPPERS!" said Squiggy.

Shirley turned to Laverne and said in a honeyed voice, "Laverne, where does your Grandmother keep the peppers?"

"WOMAN!"

"First drawer in the refrigerator." After that, Laverne made herself absent from the kitchen.

Downstairs, Maggie already wore her collar and leash. Lenny had combed his hair back into its usual sloppy ducktail - he was in the process of buttoning up a red plaid shirt.

The sight of him made her pause - with his head bowed and his eyes focused, Lenny looked like any other man, not like the goofy guy who'd haunted her life since they were kids.  
Laverne had never seen him undressed before - Lenny wore socks and a tee shirt under his pajamas, the numerous times she'd seen him before bedtime - and it had never occurred to her to examine him as she might any other man. Laverne noted his solid build - Lenny stood tall and long - but somehow thicker and stronger in the chest, with legs and arms slightly hardened by years of physical labor. His surprisingly nimble fingers ascended slowly up the front of the shirt - she wondered how someone so clumsy could move his hands with any sort of swift accuracy. He's a guitarist, she recalled suddenly. Guitarists have quick hands. One more fact carried down from her adolescence. This banter with herself occurred as a distraction - distraction from the fact that he made an appealing picture - a desirable one, one that she wanted to keep watching. He noticed her then, in a frozen state on the landing.

"Ready to go?" He had finished fiddling with the shirt and bent to take possession of Maggie's leash. When she didn't reply, he asked again, "Laverne, are you ready?"

She snapped out of her trance. "Oh! Yeah, I'm ready." She descended the final step and passed by, trying to exude rationality. Lenny opened the door for her again, keeping Maggie in a sitting position - when she walked out into the deathly hot day, they followed.

The Brooklyn morning lounged in gold around them - puddles of rain dried in dark crevices on the sidewalk, steaming as the sun began to beat down. At the scene of the carnival, activity had already begun to buzz- hot dog vendors and balloonists setting up their wears on street corners, tent owners beginning to dry off their saturated tents. Neighbors had already begun to emerge - the working men and women had already gone off for the day, leaving housewives, children, and the elderly behind to take in the early bargains of the festival morning. Into the middle of this scene, Lenny and Laverne began their walk.

Lenny craned his neck about, taking in the buildings and the sites. "Hey, what's that place?"

Laverne followed his pointing finger - "It's a synagogue, Len."

"It looks real swanky - that where the mayor lives?"

She chuckled. "Nah - it's sorta like a church."

"Oh," he seemed embarrassed - his stride became more brisk. Laverne, in her black pumps, had to work twice as hard to keep up with him and the energetic Maggie.

"Slow down!" She begged.

Gradually, he did. "Sorry - Maggie likes to pull."

"My legs're short, Len."

"No they ain't."

"Compared to you!"

Lenny snorted. "I got legs like a spider - little sticks."

"There ain't anything little about you, Len." She was the only one to hear the double entendre.

"There's a park somewhere, right?"

"A sandlot two blocks away - uh, it used to be a sandlot when I was a kid," she corrected herself.

At the end of the block, they met a crosswalk. Cars whizzed by, in a greater number than they'd seen in Milwaukee. The traffic thinned out slowly, a fact that Lenny didn't even notice, so busy was he with keeping Maggie on the curb. Impatiently, Laverne surrounded the fingers of his left hand with hers, pulling him into the street. The contact shocked him out of his distraction. 

"Way's clear," she smiled.

***

At the sandlot, Maggie frolicked as Laverne tossed a branch to her waiting mouth. Lenny watched her in silence, his expression thoughtful.

"She likes you."

Laverne shrugged, trying to tug the branch out of Maggie's mouth. The dog bore down, pulling back - they had a brief tug-of-war before Maggie eagerly ceded the branch to Laverne. "She likes lots of people - Edna, and Pop. Even Squig."

"Yeah, but she really likes you." Lenny tucked his middle fingers into the pockets of his jeans. "She don't act like that with Shirley!"

"That's 'cause Shirl's voice probably hurts her ears - the dogs in the shelter didn't like it much, either."

"Wouldya lookit this?"

Instinctively, Laverne drew herself up taller, her fists balling around Maggie's leash - the voice sparked long-hidden memories and childhood wounds. Maggie picked up on Laverne's tensions - her whiskers stood on end, and a growl sounded from within her.

"Hello, Gino."

Gino leered at Laverne while his cousins - taller, but just as thick-fisted - chuckled nastily. "That any way to greet your old buddies? Don'tcha remember the Malachi boys?" Laverne didn't want to, but did she ever remember. "Lookit this - the ol' tomboy filled out." 

She smirked. "Just 'cause I got a bust now don't mean I ain't still better at stickball than you ."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she looked Gino up and down - he'd run to fat since she'd last seen him, his buzz cut almost concealing his withering hairline. "Hey, I might be wrong - whatt're you now, Gino - second string or third choice?"

Gino reached out to strike her, but she ably dodged the blow. Suddenly, Lenny stepped between them, anger etched into his features. "Nobody tries to hit Laverne."

"Who's this? Your poodle?" 

Lenny's expression turned crestfallen. "I ain't no one's poodle!"

"Poodle? I meant pickle head." He pinched Lenny's upper arm. A furious barking sounded from Maggie - in a blink, she was on Gino's pant leg, yanking furiously.

"Get that mutt off of me!" He yelped, but only Laverne's strong yanking and colorful exclamations unlocked Maggie's grip.

"Get outta here, Gino!" She panted, petting Maggie's straining back.

"That mutt oughta be put down!" Maggie snapped at him again, her fur standing on end, and that was enough to drive Gino and his cousins out through the chain linked fence. 

Laverne knelt in the aftermath, trying to calm Maggie with her touch. Lenny stared at the retreating backs of the Malachi boys, making threatening gestures. Lenny's childishness could infuriate her so. Maggie gradually relaxed in Laverne's arms - she let out a series of whimpers, licking Laverne's exposed arms. Then she walked over to Lenny, poked the back of his knees, and made a series of growling whimpers that were so expressive they could have made a speech. Then she walked back to Laverne, then to Lenny, until both humans had forgotten their anger. Maggie gave up her attempt at communication, lying down in the space between them with a protracted sigh. 

"What was that about?" Laverne wondered.

Maggie whimpered and nudged at Lenny's wrist with her nose. "I don't think she likes it when we get angry."

Laverne's expression hardened. "C'mon - we ain't gonna let them spoil our day."

Lenny knelt to buckle Maggie's collar to her leash. "Shirl said something about there being a parade?"

"Yeah - every year, St. Anthony's holds a parade in honor of the Virgin the week of the festival. They crown a girl in Mary's name - she has to have been really busy working with the church all year. The high school bands play, and the fire trucks and policemen come out - they throw hard candy like nobody's business."

"Boy that sounds like fun - wish I had someone to take."

Laverne shrugged. "Well, I ain't got nothing else to do..."

"You mean you wanna be seen with me?"

Laverne shrugged. "I didn't mean what I said to you and Squig."

"Yeah," Lenny said, his voice sad. His eyes still rested on the vacant space left by the Malachi boys. "You did."

***

On the way back to her grandmother's place, more to placate her nerves than anything, Laverne found herself relating the story of Shirley and Squiggy's argument to him. "...I hope Grandma gets back before they kill each other."

Lenny chuckled. "She shoulda known better than to leave Squig alone with a toaster. I don't let him touch anything that uses electricity."

"I don't believe that - don't you ever leave him alone?"

"Not much," Lenny's smile was bittersweet. "Unless he's got a girl, we're together all the time."

"Kinda like me and Shirl. It's always me and Shirl, or me and my Pop, or me and some guy...I ain't never had much time to think about what I'd do without her."

"...'Cause without friends, there ain't much to living. So you just try to watch TV, or you sit around and eat - there's nothing better."

He understood what she meant. "Yeah."

"Laverne!"

She turned in mid-step, bumping into Lenny. The shouts originated from a short, dark-haired woman of about sixty or so, sitting on her stoop in a red housedress and green apron.

Laverne disengaged herself from Maggie's leash and Lenny's tangled arms and walked to the stoop. "Hey, Mrs. Irving."

"I don't believe it! You're two times taller than my Danny now!" She peered at Laverne, taking an especially long study of her hands. "Are you a Sadie yet?"

Lenny's brow quirked in confusion. "No, Missus Irving, this is Laverne."

"I ain't married," Laverne corrected.

"My Danny's single too! Maybe you could come by for dinner - I'll make my Chicken Kiev..."

"Ugh - I can't come tonight - we're doing a family thing. 'Sides, I need to rest - Pop 'n me are climbing the pole in two days!"

"So the DeFazios are the mystery third family."

"Yep. My Pop has his heart on sending Grandma to Italy this year."

"Good. Alessia needs a vacation."

"Alessia?" This new name confused Lenny all the more.

"That's Grandma's name. Her whole name's Alessia Maria San Angela DeFazio," Laverne explained to Lenny. 

"That's a mouthful," Missus Irving noted. "When I met her, she told me to call her Lisa."

"She gave up on being called Lisa a long time ago - no one in the family would do it. Especially not my Pop."

"Frank always one for formalities. And for taking care of his mother."

"All the same, I wish he didn't wanna climb that pole."

"Dont worry about him - Fabrizo DeFazio is the most determined man ever to come out of Brooklyn."

"More than Frank Sinatra?"

"They both got out of the boroughs, didn't they?" 

"And some days I think I oughta've stayed there!" Frank ambled up the sidewalk and embraced Missus Irving. "How're you doing, Carole?"

"Forget about me - my Danny's a doctor!"

While Missus Irving gushed about her Danny, Laverne helped her Grandma onto the sidewalk and took Edna's shopping bags. 

"Your Uncle Nunzio sure is generous! Anything your Grandmother wanted, he bought!"

"Did he get you anything, Edna?"

"One Statue Of Liberty planter."

Laverne chuckled. "Sounds like Uncle Nunzio. You wanna get a soda and talk about it?"

"If it's all the same, I'm going to soak my feet upstairs. I'll see you at dinner, Laverne."

"See ya, Edna." And she left all of the bags in Laverne's arms.

At that point, an enthralled Maggie managed to free herself from Lenny's grip and had began to jump on her hind legs in front of Alessia, planting her paws on the woman's thighs. Lenny scolded her, trying to get the dog down, but Missus DeFazio's response was to press the Maggie's face between her palms and rub her soft fur, murmuring kind words in Italian. The dog's tongue flopped out in a sort of satisfied grin.

"Have you had your lunch yet?" The older woman finally asked.

"We were just heading in for some," Laverne said over the lip of one of Edna's bags. 

"It's almost twelve - you will miss the parade!"

"That's all right..."

"No, I will get Maggie her lunch," Alessia insisted. "I promised Fabrizio I'd make my minestrone - and we will be sure to leave some behind for dinner."

"I'll get us lunch, Laverne - I still got some of the money Carmine gave me for film..." Lenny offered.

"But I don't -"

Lenny had already relinquished the leash to Alessia, and Maggie came instantly to heel. "Thanks so much, ma'am."

"I adore the puppy, so it is a pleasure, not a struggle. Make sure that my granddaughter eats, Leonardo."

Laverne stepped in. "Not eating isn't a problem for me, Grandma, but..."

The older woman pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek, letting Maggie lead her down the block and up the stairs, to the front door. "I will see you at six, no?" She shouted.

"Yeah, but..." 

"Oh! Missus DeFazio, I left her food dish -" Lenny rushed over to help the elderly woman, yanking the bags out of Laverne's arms and nearly knocking her over in the process.

Frank had disengaged himself from Missus Irving, and cornered Laverne. "I gotta talk to you about strategy tonight."

"I'll be there."

"That's my Muffin," he watched Lenny's animated conversation with his mother. "You know how to break his nose if he puts his hands -"

Why did everyone keep making insinuations about herself and Lenny? "Pop, he's just my friend..."

"Yeah? You've spent more time with him than Shirley this week, and for you that's something big. I know he ain't Italian, but if you wanna date him -"

Laverne threw up her hands. "I wish everyone would get it through their heads that I ain't interested in Lenny Kosnowski!"

"Hey, you want it through my head? Fine - I ain't gonna ask you about him no more! I got enough problems on my hands!" Frank said.

"I'm sorry, Pop."

"You don't gotta be sorry - just be at your Grandma's by six!"

"I got it," Laverne said. Frank retreated, walking up to the stoop. There he exchanged packages and glances pregnant of meaning -at least on Frank's side- with Lenny before entering the building with Maggie and his mother.

Lenny watched their retreat, confusion evident on his face. He walked back to Laverne in antic confusion. "Why's your Pop mad at me?"

"He thinks something's going on, and it's not." 

"Well, I didn't do nothing..."

"He knows. Hey, I'll get us seats on Missus Irving's stoop - if I remember right, you can see the whole parade from there."

"Great - I'll get lunch."

Laverne headed up the steps of the brownstone of Missus Irving's building swiftly. The structure sat on the far left opposite corner of her Grandmother's building. When she got to the top step of the stoop she waved to Lenny, who waved back at her from a nearby hot dog stand. Already, the crowd began to thicken on Saint Anthony Avenue and Sienna Boulevard.

As Laverne settled down, hissing as the hot pavement overheated her bare legs, Missus Irving reemerged from her building, dragging a folding chair with her. Laverne was up and helping her instantly - the older woman smiled her gratitude before sitting down. 

"I see why you're not interested in Danny."

Laverne turned around. "Huh?"

"There aren't many like him in this world - good to women, good to animals. High marks of character. If I were you, I'd try to get a ring out of him."

"Him who?"

"Him him," she pointed toward Lenny, who nearly tripped on his way to the curb, arms laden with goodies.

"D'ya buy out the whole stand?" Laverne teased, plucking a sack of potato chips and a Nutty Buddy out of the crook of Lenny's elbow.

"I didn't know what kinda chips you like, so I got two kinds - here's your hot dog, extra mustard." She took the dog from his left hand, leaving Lenny with a bag of chips, his own hot dog, and two sodas. 

"What kind of drink did you get?"

"Lemonade."

Laverne smiled approvingly. She opened up the Styrofoam top to her glass and glanced in before poking at the beverage with her straw. "You remembered the ice, too."

"It's a hundred degrees," He sat down on the stoop's first step, and she joined him, "you gotta be a real moron not to want ice today." He put down his drink and dog and reached into his back pocket, finding a hankie and mopping his forehead with it. Then he peered into his glass. "Guess I'm a moron."

"You want some of mine?" Laverne was already tilting her Styrofoam cup over his glass.

"Sure," he opened up the lid of his cup and she pushed three ice cubes into it with her straw. "Thanks," he smiled.

"Such a gentleman. Just what I meant," Missus Irving said from behind them.

"Huh?" Lenny wondered.

"Nothing," Laverne filled in quickly. They then ate - Laverne's hot dog was half-gone when the sound of a tuba began to echo brassily. "Parade's starting!"

Lenny ate ravenously as the music came closer and closer to the stoop. Laverne finished her hot dog with enthusiasm, eyes widening as the first marching band came into view.

In two neat lines, the Rosa Street High School marching band strode down Saint Anthony Avenue in its pressed white and crimson uniforms. Their enthusiastic but out-of-tune playing captivated easily - Laverne didn't recognize the music, but it was catchy. Lenny's knee bounced up-and-down beside her, dripping relish off of his hot dog and onto the pavement between them.

An entire school's worth of children followed next, waving to their audience - Laverne red in brown felt a banner reading "PS 120". Then the wailing of sirens. "Here comes the firemen," Laverne grinned.

First came a phalanx of cops, flashing their lights and beeping their horns. Then two fire trucks rolled down the avenue, an older model from the early 1900's and a brand new engine. Two attractive men in their early twenties hung off the ladders on each side, pitching hard candy into the assembled crowd from their hats. Eager hands rose up from the masses, wrapped candy slipping through young fingers. Laverne had little interest in a sugar high, however - sticking out her leg and batting her lashes, she tried to make eye contact with the tall redhead distributing the candy as he passed by. All it earned her was a face full of suckers. 

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she tried to shake the sugar out of her hair, and a rain of cinnamon pinwheels fell like hail to the ground around her, into her lemonade. Laverne settled back down with a grumble.

A few floats arrived then - both pulled by adults in tandem bikes and featuring well-groomed youngsters. On the last one stood a little girl among white cotton clouds in a white dress on a wooden throne, her red hair reflecting the rays of the hostile sun. Behind her was a department store dummy, dressed in a choir robe, her saran wig limp, which was meant to represent the Virgin Mary.

Laverne tugged on Lenny's arms. "That's the girl - the queen of the festival."

"Where's her crown?"

"The parade ends at Saint Anthony's - they crown her there."

Lenny studied her as she passed. As the Brooklyn Cattlehead Junior High School marching band passed them by, his voice came from a far-away world. "It's gotta be hot in those robes," he finally said.

Laverne understood that his mouth and his meaning were not connecting. "Even princesses feel it when it's ninety degrees, Len." A street sweeper passed by, and Laverne stood, pitching her lemonade, Nutty Buddy wrapper and waxed paper into a nearby trash can. "That's the end of the parade."

Lenny 'awwed', sitting up. He carried nothing with him, and Laverne remembered him eating only one of his hotdogs. 

"What happened to your lunch?" 

He pointed back to the stoop, where Missus Irving enjoyed her treat.

"Thanks, Missus Irving!" Laverne called. 

"You’re welcome, you’re welcome – I’ll send Danny over with a casserole before you leave!"

“I’ll tell Grandma,” she poked Lenny’s side and quickly turned around. “More like warn her. Especially if she sends pizza casserole.”

“What’s that?”

“Can of wieners dumped over a can of biscuits in ketchup.”

“Mmm!”

Laverne sighed her exasperation as Lenny waved his goodbye, then continued to walk back up the block. "Whattya want to do? I got five bucks left."

"Wanna play some games?"

"Sure!" His eyes lit up. He encircled her wrist with his free hand and began to pull her back down the street - the game tents started a block up from Missus Irving's building, right in front of her Grandmother's place. There they explored the different exhibitors - tents selling handmade wares, the snow cone and funnel cake carts. The arcade stood further up the street, book ended by the monstrous-looking Whip and a ferris wheel.

Lenny let go of Laverne's hand and stepped up to the squirt gun stand, where a little boy in blue shorts waited for competition. "Remember when I used to chase you around with one of these?" He picked up the wooden gun and squinted.

"Yeah! You used to squirt me in CCD class. Then my Pop got me one for Christmas!"

"I forgot that part! We both got to be such good shots that we stopped fighting. Then you and me were Bonnie and Clydesdale for awhile."

"No cats were safe," Laverne chuckled. "'Til I started hanging out with Shirley." 

Lenny turned away, averting his emotional eyes. "Then I had to settle for squirting you both from that tree you had by your bedroom window." 

"And my Pop cut it down, 'cause he thought you were a twelve-year-old peeper."

"And I had to start climbing up the fire escape..." 

The little boy glared at them. "You gonna talk mushy, or you gonna play?"

Lenny went into his pocket and planted a dollar on the counter, grabbing a gun and squinting as he aimed at the clown's mouth. "C'mon - race me, Vernie. It ain't fun unless you do it, too." 

"What'm I?" The little boy complained. "Chopped liver?"

The booth's clerk turned on the water, and Laverne ignored the third potential contestant. "You asked for it, Kosnowski." Laverne picked up her wooden pistol, steadied her aim. She heard a bell and fired.

The pink balloon over her clown's head inflated steadily in comparison with Lenny's blue one. Loudly, it exploded - as did Lenny's, practically in tandem. Vexed, they turned to the booth's owner for a final judgment, but he had already handed their competition a large blue teddy bear.

"Whatta rip-off!" Laverne complained, reholstering her gun.

"I guess we deserved it - actin' like he wasn't here."

Laverne strode away from the booth, moving up the alley. "Wanna go on a ride?"

"Nah...ooh! This looks easy!" 

He pointed at a too-familiar booth. Laverne's face fell. "I can't go back there!"

"Why? You afraid I can throw a ball through a toilet seat better than you?"

She grinned arrogantly. "It took you three seasons to get on-base with Shotz' league."

Lenny's grin took on its own brand of mocking arrogance. "You saying you're better at it than me?"

"Put your money where your mouth is!"

He grinned saucily, striding up to the booth. "Five balls, please."

The booth's owner did as was requested of him - until his eyes fell on Laverne. "Oh no - I ain't selling more balls to her!"

"I'll vouch for her." Lenny insisted.

"Fine - she breaks another lid or my head, and you pay!" He placed the balls in front of them. Laverne held one between her palms, rubbing it between them as Lenny loosened his elbow. When he leaned back to pitch, Laverne ducked out of the way.

Lenny looked down at her. "You don't got no faith in me, do you?"

"Sometimes."

Lenny groaned, got into a stance, and threw the ball.

Laverne was astonished as it passed perfectly through the center.

"Gentleman wins!" 

The booth's owner passed a stuffed dog to Lenny - he righted Laverne and stepped out of the way. "Your turn!"

Laverne stared at the ball, then Lenny, then the hole. "I dunno if I can do it," she said honestly.

"What? You're the best ball player I ever met, Laverne - I know you can!"

"I know I'm good at baseball - hitting and catching and running bases. But I ain't never been good at pitching."

"Aww, it ain't hard," he stepped behind her, placing her purse on the counter before them and taking her hand in his.

"Len..." she warned.

"I learned how to pitch like this. From a guy."

"Okay, what do I do?"

"You pull your arm back like this," she pulled her arm back. "And you lean and aim like this..." he guided her body into a careful stance. Together, they maintained their awkward position - arms touching, her elbow tucked against his, back and belly pressed together, the humidity gluing them. 

"Then?" Laverne's voice came out in an irritated whine.

"Let go." Lenny managed.

Laverne threw.

The ball soared.

"The lady wins!"

Laverne found herself hugging Lenny before she could stop herself. His smile was pained but grateful. Then someone was poking her arm with a stuffed animal. 

"You want your stuffed giraffe, lady?"

***

"Whatt're we gonna do with all these toys?"

Laverne peered over the back of her large red teddy bear, giraffe, two stuffed frogs and a pink elephant to Lenny, who was similarly weighed down with a large purple hippo, two teddy bears and two stuffed dogs. "I got a couple of cousins who're young - you want anything to keep Jeffery company?"

"Nah, you can take 'em all - that reminds me. I gotta take him out of my suitcase and introduce him to Maggie."

"You think she'll be jealous?"

"Nah - I treat all my kids the same." 

Laughing, they stood before her Grandmother's building. When the mirth trailed away, nothing but awkwardness remained. Laverne's smile reflected this. "I wish I knew before how good you can pitch - we could've used you on the mound last season."

"Switch me with Teddy from yeast? Nah!"

"Why not? You've got a better aim than him."

"Yeah, but he's quicker. Too bad he's out on comp now." 

It struck Laverne odd, how companionable and buddy-like their talk was. She didn't know why it felt wrong and worse, why she seemed to want something more intimate. "I'll put in a good word with Jeb for you."

"You don't gotta do that."

"Yeah, I do - you're a good guy, Len, and you got some golden talent there. I wish you'd see it."

Lenny guffawed, abashed by her laudation. "I'm just a guy."

"A pretty terrific guy."

A far-off warning of thunder echoed in the sky. She hadn't even noticed the gradual graying of the afternoon - not when she held Lenny's hand on the ferris wheel as he shrieked, or when he encouraged her to buy a bottle to fill with colored sand, or when she finally learned the secret to pitching thanks to his generosity. Lenny tucked the hippo under his chin and stretched his arm around her. "We better get in, before it starts storming."

She leaned into his side "I don't want it to end," she muttered.

"Me neither," he whispered back.

"Today, I mean - the fun. I had a lot of fun..." She dropped her teddy bear and let out an unladylike curse. Lenny bent to help her, but the mess of stuffed animals only made things more confusing, until somehow her arms had wound themselves around his neck. They tried to laugh this off, but somehow it felt right to move closer to him, to open her mouth....

"Laverne! Laverne!" 

She separated from Lenny, looking up into her Grandmother's face.

"Is it six-thirty?"

"It's six-thirty."

Laverne groaned. Lenny look thunder stricken.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Nah," they said together.

"Come upstairs - dinner's on the table!"

Laverne remembered herself instantly - cheeks smarting, she picked up as many of the animals as she could and rushed inside. She could still hear Lenny's footsteps behind her as she climbed the front stairs.

***

A disheveled Laverne entered her grandmother's kitchen, dropping her purse onto the counter. Her grandmother's lyrical voice felt like tacks under her skin.

" _Bambina!_ I've needed a word with you since this afternoon!" She took her granddaughter aside and placed her on a kitchen chair, then poured her a cup of coffee. "Have I ever told you how I met your Grandpapa?"

Laverne held the steaming mug to her lips. "Yeah - it's one of Pop's favorite stories. He said you were working in a cafe in Milan."

"Yes, yes - he was the head cook," she closed her eyes and shook her head. "We were wild for each other- mad, so mad! I wanted to scratch his eyes out, because he was so hard to work for! But then I came to understand it was better to be pushed around by Tony in the bedroom than in the kitchen..."

"I don't wanna know this..."

"Do not cover your ears!" Alessia held her granddaughter's hands against the steaming cup of coffee. "Sometimes I hated your grandfather. But I loved him just as much. Like lasagna, there are many layers to the feelings between a man and a woman."

Laverne chuckled at her grandmother's analogy. "Grandma, please..."

"I will say nothing more. Promise me, though, that you will think about this."

Laverne nodded. "Thanks, Grandma."

At that point, Lenny burst into the kitchen. He avoided looking at Laverne and concerned himself with a fruit basket sitting on the kitchen windowsill. 

"I shall leave you alone,"

Lenny's shoulders stiffened as she made her exit. Then Laverne placed her hand on his back and he turned around, wide-eyed.

"We gotta talk," she said quietly.

"I didn't mean to do that, Laverne - I wasn't trying to take nothing off of you, but everything started happening real fast and -"

"I was the one trying to kiss you Len - you don't have to apologize." 

"Okay," he said gravely. Then he astonished her by trying another kiss. Fear and confusion warred in her mind, and she pushed him away.

"Not now."

"Huh?"

"I'm too confused."

His expression darkened. "I get it."

"Huh?"

"I shoulda known - you don't want me, or to be seen with a loser like me, you said so yourself! You were pretending you liked me just to get back at me for taking those pictures of Shirley!" He crouched under the kitchen table, hiding from her eyes.

Laverne's jaw had dropped. "Len, I..."

"It's real hard being your friend, Laverne – if that’s what we are. I don't know what you want - you keep saying you don't want me to touch you, and then you hug me. You try to kiss me - then when I try to kiss you, I get shoved!"

"I don't mean to hurt you, Len."

"You are!"

"I'm sorry." She bit her lower lip. "Geez, I dunno what to say..."

"Why do you keep doing it?" 

"Because I don't know how to stop!"

He peeked at her from underneath the table. "Huh?"

Laverne stood up, beginning to pace. "I feel so weird, Len - like I don't know what to do around you, or what to say - that everything I do say is the wrong thing. And it’s all so new that I don’t know how to treat you." She closed her eyes against the sight of him. 

She heard material shifting material – he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up.

"I'm gonna leave you alone - let you make up your own mind. I know what I feel - how I feel - but I ain't gonna let my heart get trashed anymore because you don’t. Vernie, if we’re talking about what I think we’re talking about, it’s going to mean some big changes – the kind I can’t force on ya. You said you was happy before, and I don’t know if it was a lie or not. But if it wasn’t, we gotta stop doing this," he headed for the door. "’Cause I can't go through falling for you again and again."

He left her trembling in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hey, Len, Carmine's on the phone - Len?" The door slammed, then rattled. "Don't lock yourself in the bathroom! Some of us've gotta use it!"

Laverne steadied herself before emerging, settling at the dining room table between Frank and Shirley. Her grandmother pushed a large portion of lasagna onto her plate.

"What hap-"

She turned from Shirley's questions toward her Pop. "What about your strategy?"

"Oh! I was thinking: we don't touch the pole."

"Good idea."

"So we build a tower around the pole: Your cousins Ricky and Anthony on the bottom, those two clowns next, then me, then you and Shirley. You're tall enough that, if she sits on your shoulders, she'll reach the top with no problem."

"I dunno, Pop - that's a lotta weight on your shoulders..."

"I been training, carrying your stepmother's bags all over Brooklyn," he smiled. 'I'll be okay, Muffin."

She smiled wanly. "D'y know who our big competition is?"

"Yep - the Margraves - they're pushovers,"

She concentrated on her lasagna.

"And the Malachis."

Her blood ran cold with dread. "The Malachis?"

"Yeah, they climb right before us."

Laverne shuddered. It was pouring again, she had the decision of a lifetime to make on only a day’s worth of positive interaction, and now she had to climb up a greased pole in competition with the Malachis. Some vacation this was turning out to be...

***

"Squiggy!!"

Andrew Squiggman, whose attentions had been momentarily divided by the argument in the kitchen, nearly dropped the phone at Carmine's insistent shouting.

"Sorry! Geez, whattya want?"

"Shirley! What's Shirley doing?"

"Eating lasagna!"

"Put her on!"

Squiggy looked over his shoulder, at the dining room table. Squiggy made eye contact with Shirley and pointed at the phone. Shirley gave Squiggy a horrified look - then Maggie butted her in the stomach, and Shirley began to pet her.

"Sorry, she's busy petting a dog."

"Dog?! Who's got a dog?"

"I dunno - Lenny said something about Anthony -"

"ANTHONY!! WHO'S ANTHONY?!"

"Laverne's cousin! Geez, I may be devastatingly handsome, but that don't mean I'm stupid!"

"SHIRLEY'S GOING OUT WITH LAVERNE'S COUSIN ANTHONY?!"

"No, she's going out with a plate of lasagna! Geeze - I got dinner to eat, Carmine!"

"Save me a plate, Squig - I'm getting on the next bus to Brooklyn!"

"Well, it's gonna take you a whole day to get here - it'll all be cold by then."

But Squiggy's answer was a dial tone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy rears its head, and a calm day is otherwise had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks in italics.

"You're awake, too?"

Laverne rolled over, meeting Shirley's bleary gaze. Her little alarm clock read "5:45". "Yeah."

Shirley shifted onto her back. "I promised I'd meet Anthony at six for breakfast. I keep thinking that I have to see him and I have to tell him about Carmine but at the same time I don't want to..."

Laverne stretched, trying to work the kinks out of her aching right shoulder. She and Shirley had unconsciously curled together for comfort in the middle of the night, but it hadn't tamed their private concerns. "Anthony'll understand. He's a good guy."

Shirley sat up, tousled her hair, and yawned - forcing Laverne to yawn alongside her. "Pshaw. Even the nicest guy doesn't take being dumped well. Remember Doctor Sterns?"

"Yeah, well, you gotta tell Anthony the right way..."

"That's my problem," Shirley stepped out of bed and tucked in her side, avoiding the sleeping Edna. "I don't know what the 'right way' is with Anthony."

"Well, he likes honesty. You just gotta tell him about Carmine real truthfully - though I dunno why you WANNA do that."

"Because when we go back to Milwaukee, everything's going to be the way it's always been," Shirley said, her voice turning to agitation. "I'll date Carmine, you'll date skuzzy hoods and we'll keep living on Knapp Street. Not breaking up with Anthony would do him harm because on Monday night we're leaving." Shirley pulled back their blanket and patted Laverne on the side. "Spit - spot! I want to make the bed before we leave. Why don't you take a bath while I do it?"

The creepy domesticity of the moment amused Laverne, but she followed Shirley's orders, stepping over Edna, taking her suitcase and randomly pulling out new underwear and a fresh dress before heading to the bathroom.

Filtered sunshine poured over the occupants of the DeFazio living room - Laverne couldn't tell apart the five snoring lumps on the floor by species or sound. After using the faculties and powdering herself, Laverne slipped into what she had blindly selected. When she realized what she would now be forced to wear all day, she groaned - a powder-pink off-the-shoulder blouse with a red "L", cut-offs and sneakers. Nothing quite went together, but when she wore them all at the same time they seemed to make sense on her body. Relieved, she brushed out her permanent set and opened the door.

Shirley waited in her bathrobe. "I put your purse on the sideboard," she whispered. Laverne nodded, slipping by her roommate and taking her bag - the red one with the pink daisy and "L". While Shirley used the faculties, Laverne tried to live as quietly as she could - her silence was interrupted by a squawk at the cold poking of a wet nose.

"Hi, Maggie," she said, in a cheery but soft noise. The dog tried to jump up on her, but at Laverne's dodging, settled for sitting down at her feet for a petting. Laverne scratched her fingers through the soft, amber-colored fur - the dog sighed in a near-human way before closing her eyes. That was how Shirley found them when she emerged in her pink sundress, white shoes and cream-colored handbag.

"Maggie!" She squeaked in her soft but high-pitched voice. The dog lowered her ears and let out a quiet whimper, but with Laverne still scratching her she allowed Shirley to pet her head. After a few seconds Maggie tired of their treatment and got up, walking over to the lump Laverne presumed was Lenny and curling up beside him with another sigh.

Shirley opened the door and crept over the threshold, leaving room for Laverne to exit behind her. Laverne fastened closed the millions of bolts that protected her Grandmother from the outside world. As the two friends made their way up the Brooklyn sidewalk and began walking east toward the small cluster of businesses not completely enveloped by the street fair, Shirley began explaining her rationale again out loud, as if trying to cheer herself.

"It's all for the best, isn't it Laverne? I'm never going to see Antony again - heavens, it's only two days from Monday - and I'm going to have Carmine in my life until I die. Oh, he says he's not interested in commitment at the moment, but I know he loves me - he wouldn't have gone steady with me for this long if he wasn't! So I'm doing this for the best of everyone involved..."

"Yeah, everyone but you," Laverne muttered. 

Shirley stopped suddenly. Her reflection was mirrored by the over lit front window of a bridal shop, and her face, magnified onto the tulle skirt of the gown within, was drawn and tired. "What do you mean by that?"

"You what honesty, Shirl? I'll be honest with you - are you breaking up with Antony because you're in love with Carmine, or because you're afraid of risking everything with a guy in a long-distance relationship?"

Shirley sputtered. "Why - why - how can you ask me something like that? Of course I love Carmine!"

"Sure you do! I love Carmine, too!" Shirley's features darkened with anger. "As a friend," Laverne added quickly. "That's what I mean. People love each other in different ways, at different times. You probably don't love Carmine right now the same way you loved him in high school -" 

"Yes, I do!"

"Oh yeah? Would you give yourself pneumonia just to watch him play football?" Shirley looked downcast. "You see what I mean? There comes a time when you don't want to sacrifice anymore of yourself to another person." Laverne held herself back from admitting Lenny's conspiracy with Carmine. "Somewhere in there, you love Antony, too. Maybe it's not the way you love Carmine, or you don't love him as deep or in the same sort of way. But it's love, all the same." Guilt marred Shirley's face. "It's okay to be torn between two guys. Carmine and Antony have a lot of stuff in common - they're both good guys who do hard work and care about the women they love. They even sorta look alike - if you squint," Laverne chortled. "You're not using Antony because he reminds you of Carmine? Or to make Carmine jealous?"

"No! What you said about him is right. Antony's a nice boy, and he's very attentive. Much more attentive than Carmine," she admitted. "When we go back to Milwaukee I'm not even planning on telling Carmine about this part."

"Now you know what you're choosing between. Carmine's not coming out of this looking too good. He wouldn't come here to be with you in Brooklyn, but he," she realized that she'd nearly revealed Lenny's secret and stopped herself. "He won't stop bugging you, even though you said it'd be good for you to spend time apart. I think he's being kind of creepy. It's like he's trying to control you."

"Carmine's not controlling," Shirley protested. "He's only calling so much because he's worried about me." 

"If he was so worried, he would've come and stayed with us. My Grandma offered him room and board."

"He told me that your father wanted someone to watch the restaurant. You should be proud of him for being so responsible," Shirley said harshly.

"Huh. You still care about Carmine - that's good. If you feel something for him, you can still work it out."

"What would you do if you were me?"

"If I were you, Shirl," Laverne said as she started walking again, "I don't know who I'd choose, but I'd be living it up. Two guys don't throw themselves at a girl at the same time as often as they should."

"I can't enjoy it," Shirley admitted. "Trying to decide between Carmine and Antony is like torture. Antony gives me everything I've ever wanted emotionally from a man, but we've only known one another for three days! How can you build a lasting relationship in three days? Meanwhile, I have this relationship with Carmine's that's lasted almost ten years. I know him better than he knows himself, and we're...physically compatible. Good gravy - ten years ago, I thought I'd be someone's wife," Shirley's expression turned bittersweet. "Promise to keep a secret for me, Laverne?"

"I always keep your secrets."

"I'd give up my dream of having a doctor if Carmine proposed," she admitted. "In a second. He knows me so well that I know I'd never regret giving up a picket fence if he'd be mine," she matched Laverne's brisk pace as they closed in on the cafe of her destiny. "But there are so many obstacles between us - so many differences. All of the other women, for one. His inferiority complex about money. He might end up working for the mob again, to give me the things he believes I want. Sometimes, I think Carmine doesn't want to marry me. I think he loves being a bachelor too much to ever give up seeing other women, and without a wife he doesn't have to worry about anything but achieving his dream," Shirley leaned in conspiratorially and said, "I've been wondering lately if I should just vodeo-do-do with him, just to see if he'd stay."

"That's the wrong reason to do it." In the back of Laverne's mind, she knew precisely why it was such a bad idea - that plus a broken condom was how Rosie Greenbaum had trapped Ogden into marriage their senior year of high school. Laverne, meanwhile, had given her virginity up to Fonzie in a third-floor room at the Pfister Inn the night of their senior prom. That Laverne wasn't as virginal as Shirley still was - and as Shirley believed her to be - remained one of the few things she'd never shared with her best friend in all their years of closeness. She had no regrets about her decision. Some things were just too private to share, even for two women who were near-sisters. Her relationship with Fonzie had been her mistake to make - it was the same one she had made with Norman, Jake, Tom and Steve - but she was not ashamed. Her reasons for putting out had been varied, but none of them were as dumb as Shirley's would be. "You've been saving yourself for the right time. It'd be wrong to just give in out of the blue. You deserve the best."

"Thank you. I guess you're right," Shirley sighed.

They reached their destination - a white-trimmed cafe set in an antique brick building on the corner of an intersection. "It sounds," Laverne said, as they took their spray-painted white iron chairs, planting their rear ends on the bright red painted seats, "like you don't know what you're doing, Shirl. I wish you'd take more time to think about it."

Shirley's eyes narrowed. "Did Laverne DeFazio just tell me to take my time and move more slowly?" Laverne nodded her head slowly - then she hid behind a menu. "I wish I could, but I only have two more days. Solving things through phone calls and letters wouldn't be fair to Anthony."

"Are you afraid to choose?"

Shirley sniffed, picking up her own menu. "I wouldn't preach to me about being afraid if I were you."

Laverne's head shot over hers. "Whatya mean? I ain't afraid of anything!"

"No?" Shirley bent low over her menu to privatize their conversation as commuters began to drift up the sidewalk for their pre-work breakfasts. "Then why are you leading poor Lenny on again?" 

Laverne hid her flaming cheeks behind a laminated white menu. "I ain't leading Lenny on. He's a sweet guy, but he's....LENNY..."

"Is that why you kissed him yesterday?" The menu fell forward, smacking Shirley on the nose and she reared back, fingers rushing to her face. "Did it leave a mark?" She panicked.

Laverne captured Shirley's face between her palms, examining Shirley's nose. "You're fine," Shirley sighed in relief. "That red mark'll go away soon." Shirley groaned in dismay, then pulled a compact out of her purse and began powdering her nose. "How did you know I kissed Lenny?"

"Your grandmother told me." It was Laverne's turn to groan. Then both women felt the heat of staring eyes on them and quieted. "Why do you keep protesting that you have no feelings for that boy and then signal that you're interested?"

"I'm not signaling! The kiss was a friendly little gentle kiss - the kind I gave him when he used to scrape his knee...The kind I gave him when he stapled his thumb last month!"

"Laverne, your grandmother makes it sound like it far more than a little gentle kiss. And one of your neighbors told me this morning she could see his tongue in your mouth from two floors up."

Laverne moaned. "I'm so embarrassed..."

"I'm only saying that it seems like your feelings for him are changing," Shirley replied. "You've certainly spent a lot of time together during this trip. And Maggie IS very attached to you..."

"Dogs like anyone who tastes salty," Shirley frowned at her. "Dogs lick people for their salt. It was a Bazooka Joe Fact."

"That sounds like something Squiggy would say."

"It's okay for Maggie like me - we're gonna see each other all the time in Milwaukee. The only reason I'm spending time with Len is 'cause you're always out with Antony. So it's nothing, Shirl - all of this is a big pile of nothing. We'll go back to Milwaukee and Lenny'll keep being my annoying friend and I'll go back to dating hoods, like you said."

"Let me echo what you asked me: are you sure that's what's best for you?"

Laverne was clearly disturbed by that question, but was absolved of a response by the sudden appearance of Anthony. He came west up the street, then bent over and kissed Shirley on the mouth, hard and fast. After parting from her now-pliant form he said, "hey, Laverne."

Shirley's expression was stunned and spacey. "Hello, Anthony..." she said, unbidden.

"Hi, Anthony," Laverne said, made awkward by the shared affection. 

"Hey, did you order yet?" He straddled a chair backwards.

"No, I haven't seen a..."

Laverne's sentence was truncated by a shout. "ANTHONY!" A waiter uniformed all in white appeared. The two started laughing, slapping each other on the back. 

"Hey, girls," Anthony said, parting from his friend's embrace. "This is Gino! Gino and me went to high school together."

"Sure as hell did. Hey, man, you're holdin' up good!"

"You ain't holdn' up too bad yourself," he jokingly patted his friend's midsection. "When're the twins due?"

"Heey!!" He laughed. "You and the ladies want something? I'll charge you a'la carte!"

"We'll take a round of orange juice, three number fives and a basket of cinnamon rolls."

"I got you man! You gimmie your number before you go - I don't wanna wait for the reunion to get together."

"Right!" Antony sat down between Laverne and Shirley, then put both of his elbows on the table, guffawing heartily. His manners clearly appalled Shirley, but his next words negated everything. "How're you doing, beautiful?"

"Fine," both girls said together. Laverne realized he was addressing Shirley and began fiddling with her menu. 

"When you called I thought you wanted to see me alone. Lenny had to stay home, Laverne?"

"I ain't Lenny's keeper," Laverne uttered crossly. 

"Geez, don't be mad! I thought he'd come is all. Grandma told me you're real close now..."

"It didn't mean nothing! It was just a little quiet, gentle peck on the lips!" Laverne blurted out.

"The sunuvabtich kissed you?” snapped Antony.

Laverne moaned, resting her head on the table.

"Don't worry about Leonard. He's a nice boy," Shirley said softly. "He's wonderful with Laverne. You don't have to worry about him compromising her virtue."

Anthony stared at her with bald-faced incredulity. "Laverne? Virtue? You gotta be kidding me."

"Shirl has something to say to you," Laverne interrupted, throwing Shirley on the fire to avoid further interrogation. 

"Oh, that can wait until after breakfast, can't it?" Shirley opened her clutch purse. "It'll be my treat, Anthony."

"Forget about it. I'll get it Gino to put it on my tab."

"Gee, you think he'll let you do that?"

Gino arrived then with their food, serving the trio with some sense of the gallant. "Hey, my friend - I'll put it on your tab. The boss says I can if you remember to pay off twenty percent before the end of the month"

"Great! Hey, tell him I'm waiting for pay day."

"Good - I'll tell him he'll get his money next year!" 

Anthony laughed heartily. "Tell him he'll get it when he gets it, my man." Anthony and Gino shared a laugh as he turned back to the table.

The two girls began to eat immediately, wanting as much distance between them and the truth as possible. Following their instruction, Antony ate much more sparingly, unused to the quiet. Distracted by the traffic as it passed. 

Laverne finished first - in her chair faced the street, her mind and eyes wandered. Her gaze fell on a little girl hopping up the sidewalk in a pink dress - her dark hair and chipper demeanor reminded her of Shirley at that age. It hadn't been so long ago that she had been six, running around Milwaukee, a motherless child being raised on a street corner.

_"Hey Laverne!" came a familiar voice from her memory._

_"Hey, Len - what're you doing?"_

_"Wait - watch - see?"_

_"Hey! You tied your shoes just like I taught you to!"_

_"Uh huh. You teach real good."_

Her memories of that age were all mostly bad - her first year without a mom to lean on. _Remember who was with you the whole way?_ she asked herself. The answer was the same in every memory. The only good spots during that entire time had been Shirley and Lenny. Strangely, she had been closer to Lenny at that time than she had Shirley, until he had decided he was in love with her and told their whole third-grade class that he would marry her some day. After that, she had hung out with Shirley more often. Squiggy had been between them for an even longer time, but he, she thought grimly, was at least easily distracted.

"Anthony," Shirley said suddenly, her voice erratic with anxiety, "I've had a wonderful time with you, but..."

"And I've had a wonderful time with you. You're a great lady, Shirley Feeney."

"Oh, Anthony," she swooned. "I meant to tell you that..."

"Do you need a date for tonight? They're having a contest at the bandstand in town square for armature singers - gonna be more fire works and a live band. And dancing!"

"I'm a terrible dancer," she locked eyes with her half-eaten French toast.

"So's Anthony," Laverne encouraged - Shirley met that reproof with an icy glare. "But Carmine..."

"Who's Carmine?" 

Shirley's animated response was vivid. "I'd be delighted to go with you! We'll hang out, go on some rides..." 

Anthony grinned. "I'll buy you some popcorn."

His kindness made her realize what she had agreed to. Shirley twisted the napkin between her palms. "Why do you have to make this so hard?"

"What am I making hard?" he wondered.

"It's a mess, Anthony," Shirley admitted.

"Does that mess gotta do with some Carmine in Milwaukee?" She nodded. "Then forget it. You're on vacation here - you're my family's guest. It's my job to make you feel welcome and comfortable."

"I can't forget about home! I'll be there in two days, and whatever I do here comes back there with me!"

"Then we won't do nothing you'll regret."

"But..."

"DeFazios don't take 'but' for an answer, do they?" he asked Laverne.

"Nope." 

Shirley seemed ready to murder her with her dull butter knife, but said, "I really don't have anyone to dance with tonight..."

"Good. I'll meet you on Grandma's stoop at eight," He tossed off the white napkin he'd tucked into the collar of his plaid work shirt. "I gotta be at the site by nine. You make sure she don't do anything crazy," he ordered Laverne.

"That'd be a full time -"Anthony cut Shirley off with a kiss. Her cheeks turned a soft pink from the warmth of their contact. "Must you unsettle me?" she plead.

"I just like it when you blush," he grinned. "See you girls."

"Bye Anthony," Laverne said. When her cousin was out of sigh, Shirley's sharp nails latched onto Laverne's wrist.

Shirley panicked. "What am I going to do? We didn't solve anything!"

Laverne shrugged. "You were the one who agreed to go on the date. Just relax and go with Antony to the dance tonight. Tomorrow you got a pole to climb. After that, it'll all be pictures for your scrapbook."

"What if I don't want Anthony to become a memory - what if I want more?"

The idea obviously tortured Shirley. "Then you'll choose. But I know you'll choose the smartest thing, 'cause you're Shirley. But right now, I want to do anything but think about guys!" Laverne picked up her purse and stood up. "Why don't we go to the movies? My treat."

"No, my treat - I know you spent nearly everything you saved at the fair yesterday," Shirley reproached mildly - her instincts, as always, were correct. "Is your Grandmother expecting us for lunch?"

"No, but I need to be back by six so I can help her make eggplant parmesan for Saturday's dinner. We can spend the day together, if you're free."

"I would like that," Shirley said, taking her own purse from the ground. "We've barely seen each other all week!"

"Yup," Laverne said. "But we're always together at home. Guess we wanted a little break."

Shirley frowned. "I didn't want us to take a break!" 

Laverne knew differently, but she smiled with grace. "Let's go - there's a theater down the block. Race you!"

They were six again by the time they got to the Diamond Theater's ticket booth. Shirley lost the footrace, but only by inches - and only because she lost one of her patent black flats.

***

The Diamond's house lights came up approximately two hours later, or, by Laverne's count, after they had consumed two Pepsis, a box of popcorn and six scented tissues.

She had allowed Shirley to select the movie - a weeper called "Imitation of Life" - and proceeded to watch her friend meld with her seat, tears dripping down her chin as Rock Hudson gave up his life to follow the young paraplegic whom he had accidentally crippled. The movie wasn't Laverne's favorite - by the second reel she knew where it was going and waited impatiently for it to get there - so she chilled out and waited for a make-out scene that didn't come. By the end of the film, she simply concentrated on the popcorn.

"I can't believe he left her!" Shirley sniffled as they emerged from their plush violet-colored seats. The theater had been a silent movie house before Laverne was born, and had seen vaudeville acts when she was a young child. Now it was an awkwardly plush place to take in a matinee and cartoon with a newsreel for fifty cents. Laverne felt strangely out-of-place there, as if her plain day clothing existed as an affront to what the old movie house stood for.

"I would've left her if I was Rock - all she did was cry for two hours," Laverne snickered. 

"She lost her legs. I would be crying, too!" Shirley rubbed her red eyes.

They emerged onto the bustling sidewalks of Brooklyn, blinking and squinting against the sunlight. "All right - whattya wanna do now?" Laverne asked.

"How about some window shopping?" Shirley suggested. "This section of the neighborhood fascinates me. Look at the lovely shops!"

"It's been around for years! Too bad it didn't always look this swell. My grandma said something about urban renewal. Every Sunday when I was little I used to hang out here, and Pop would take me to a bakery on this block -" Laverne pointed to a small shop, redolent of pink neon and bleached white bricks, up at the end of the block, "And we'd have cannolis and chocolate milk."

Shirley's mouth began to water. "Cannolis - that doesn't sound bad..."

"I'll show you how to figure out which one is the best one!" Laverne pulled her best friend up the street, and at their destination a jingling bell signaled their entrance to the White Star Bakery. 

A tall African-American gentleman wearing a flour-coated apron bounded around the pastry case to embrace Laverne. "Little Laverne DeFazio! But you're not so little anymore!"

Laverne hugged back. "Mister Smith - gee, it's been ten years? You look great!"

"I try! Well, look at you! You grew up too fast!" 

"Everyone keeps saying that! I haven't been around the neighborhood in so long I surprised anyone remembers me. How's Maria?"

"Retired, finally - and the boys are spending the summer in Utah with their Uncle." He eyed Shirley. "Who is your friend?"

"Oh, this is Miss Shirley Feeney," she pushed Shirley gently forward. "Mister Smith's owned this place for...a long time."

"Thirty years now," he strode back over to the pastry case. "Would you like your usual?"

"If by 'usual', you mean 'cannolis', then yes please," Laverne responded pertly. "Four - Pop'll kill me if I don't bring some home for him and Grandma."

"No chocolate milk?" 

Laverne blushed. "Nah...but if you've got a bottle of Pepsi..."

"Is Alessia well?" Mister Smith headed behind the counter, sliding the case open and picking up a cannoli in each wax paper covered hand with efficient smoothness. 

"She's doing good - still standing at seventy-eight," Laverne grinned. "Pop's doing good, too. The Pizza Bowl's gettin' good business."

"I told him he'd do well - get a good pizza joint in a fast neighborhood and you rake it in," Laverne took the one in his left, Shirley the one in his right. "Tell me they aren't perfect," he bragged.

Shirley looked over the pasty with trepidation - its oddness was something she'd never encountered in Milwaukee. The fried shell was tubular, cradling down its length a portion of creamy goo and chopped pistachios. At the crown of its seam sat a puff of whipped cream and one maraschino cherry, and the entirety was dusted with powdered sugar. Laverne didn't make any such examination, already having bitten off the end of hers. She smiled around a full mouth, and then swallowed. "Good as always." 

Her friend responded by taking a bite, a smile dawning around a full mouth. It was sweet and creamy with ricotta filling and powdered sugar, and yet crispy. Not the least bit soggy. "Very good."

"Made with farm-fresh butter and real ricotta - you can't have a bakery in the middle of a Jewish-Italian neighborhood and not do that. People know the difference."

Laverne had her purse open. "Is it still five cents apiece?"

He pushed her bag gently forward. "I'll give you the two for your folks free of charge."

Laverne knew that meant she had to pay for the one she had consumed, and the one Shirley ate lustily. That she had no money suddenly dawned on her. Without discussion, Shirley opened her purse on the counter and handed him a dime. He reached into the case, selected two plump canolis and wrapped them up on the counter in waxed paper, then placed them in a box. 

"Thank you for shopping at White Star Bakery," he said formally.

"Thank you for not changing the recipe for these cannolis!" Laverne retorted. "Business is still good, right?"

"Good," the implication was "not great". Laverne had seen a sign on a development across the street - 'for lease'. Competition was a danger for every businessman in such a small enclave. 

"I hope it works out for you guys," she said. "Ask Grandma for my address in Milwaukee - I'll send you a card at Christmas."

"I'll do that - hey, I'll see you at the block party Sunday night!"

"See you there! Bye!" 

"And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Feeney."

"It was a pleasure to meet you - thank you so much for the cannolis!"

"Just be sure to come back when you go back to Brooklyn."

They exited the shop hand-in-hand, wiping their powered sugar-covered hands. "I didn't have the heart to tell that man that I'm not coming back to Brooklyn," Shirley said. "How does he know your family?"

"Mister Smith was the first negro I ever met," Laverne admitted when they had left the bakery and begun to walk westward. "When he moved to the neighborhood, no one but Grandma would talk to him. She made sure to invite his wife to every party she threw, and made sure everyone knew Alessia DeFazio wouldn't come to your party if you didn't invite Maria Smith. They moved in downstairs from her, and she was his character witness on his first loan application. Now he's got the busiest bakery in the neighborhood."

"Your Grandmother's such an amazing woman."

"Yeah, she's been living in President Kennedy's age of enlightenment for a long time."

Shirley stopped walking - pointing and squealing at a tenement building a step away. "Ooh! I want to get my palm read!"

Laverne noticed what Shirley had set her sights on - Madame Mimi's House of Palmistry, located on the third floor of a row house between an Indian and an Italian restaurant. The nondescript structures were plainly made, held over from the early 1890's. They used garish neon signs to draw attention to the businesses within - a pool hall, Madame Mimi's, and a used book store. 

"I didn't think you went in for that heebie-jeebie voodoo stuff," Laverne teased.

"Normally, no, but this is my vacation. Besides, it's always useful to see where the future will lead." 

"Shirl, palmists are swindlers. They take your money and say stuff anyone could come up with."

"For pete's sake! Loosen up! Have some fun!"

"You're telling ME to loosen up? As long as it's your money - I only have six dollars left, plus the bus fare to get back home."

Shirley took the lead up the block to the palmistry, pulling Laverne up a narrow stairwell and to the third floor. The Listerine-scented interior made Laverne wrinkle up her nose, but they passed the hallway quickly and parted a multicolored glass bead hanging screen to enter Mimi's place.

The recorded sound of rain falling filled the room, which was painted over in magentas and reds. The floor was covered and draped with silks and pillows covered in oriental silk. On a nest of pillows of many colors at the center of the room, a woman crouched over a crystal ball, a red silk turban on her head and a black silk robe around her shoulders - obviously Madame Mimi. Laverne and Shirley stood still in the doorway. She didn't even look up at their entrance. 

"The dark-haired one - give me your right palm," spoke the woman in a heavy Russian accent. Shirley's blue eyes were huge at the surprise.

"Laverne!" She trilled, unable to find further words.

"Do it, Shirl. I ain't giving her mine!"

Shirley trust out her hand, the rest of her body reeling backward toward the door as a protective measure. The elderly woman examined Shirley's palm lovingly, her cold, hard fingers exploring. "Yes, yes," she crooned. "A long life line. It intersects nicely with money and health. A pioneer, perhaps. Are you interested in medicine?"

"Single doctors," Laverne wised off.

"Perhaps you should forget romance and study the profession," the older woman suggested. "You have an inherent kindness mixed with level-headedness. You were meant to care for others, and to work with children."

Shirley considered this. "Well, I always have wanted a family of my own..."

"There is more to it than children of your own. You have the palm of a saint - a Mother Theresa. You will have a long, solid, worthwhile life that extends beyond love and romance."

"What about love?" Shirley blurted.

"Ahh...love...you have many suitors, but little experience in the physical sense. Perhaps you should check the bulls before buying their meat, eh?"

Shirley flushed, and Laverne began chuckling. Mimi's eyes zeroed in on her. 

"You, the one who thinks I'm full of baloney, your palm."

Her bravery shrunk a little, but Laverne tossed her head and offered Mimi her palm. 

"This one...is different," she mused. "Your life may be very hard...or very happy. There is a choice coming soon. One decision will lead you to a relationship, the other to bachelorettehood. Either option is worthy - but it is best to pick the one that suits you and not hurt the one who loves you. He is weak in matters of the heart, and another rejection from you will destroy him." Madame Mimi looked over her wire-rimmed glasses, the black of her robe blending with the deep plum of her lips. "Do you dance?"

Laverne struggled for glibness. "Not for money."

"You should. You are a greatly talented tap dancer, but you do not believe that this ability will provide for you. A cynic. You're the sort of person who believes in doing what you wish - independent to a point. And yet you cannot stand to be alone. Here is a lesson for you - you will be a dancer. Alone or with a partner, it will be your life. This is your choice to make."

Laverne didn't even have the whit to suggest the idea was foolish. Shirley was pulling her out of the room, throwing a few dollars at Madame Mimi's feet. The girls nearly collided as they ran out the door and from the building.

"That was spooky," Shirley admitted.

"Huh! Spooky," Laverne scoffed, covering for her anxiety. "Fortune tellers make it up as they go along, Shirl."

"Then how did she know I was interested in medicine?"

"Lucky guess? Don't worry about it, Shirl - you're gonna be a doctor like I'm gonna be a dancer." She laughed. "A dancer! You know how young you gotta be to dance professionally? And the money it takes to learn how?"

"You're a good dancer. It's conceivable, isn't it?"

"It's baloney," she said, deliberately avoiding thinking about the last part of the prediction - her choice. "Come on. I know a dress shop on third that lets you try everything on without buying!"

The plush third street shop was indeed patient. Laverne tried on a number of frothy gowns and elaborate pantsuits. Shirley tried on dozens of gowns, but couldn't find anything she liked.

"Do you think this makes me look too hippy?"

"Shirl, you are not hippy. You never will be hippy." Laverne frowned at the image in the boutique mirror. Her black ball grown drew attention to her natural thinness and bony shoulder blades. Lenny was right - she needed to eat more. She was disturbed that his ghost had decided to rise up at the worst times. She distracted herself by putting on an enormous white hat with a black ribbon around the crown.

"Laverne, you look just like Holly Golightly!"

"Not even close!" Laverne shook her head at the picture before her. Trying out clothes in a swanky shop was an act of masochism. She would never be able to buy things like this for herself. "It's lunchtime," Laverne said suddenly. "You wanna try on some sweaters or leave?"

"It's not sweater season - and a hundred dollars off of two hundred is not a bargain," she snubbed the discount bin. "Let's go change. Lunch is on me!"

They selected the cheapest place within walking distance: the lunch counter at Woolworth’s, where they ate ice cream sodas and grilled cheese until they could barely move. When they made the homeward journey, Madame Mimi's dire predictions had been reduced to no more than a nagging sound in the back of their minds.

***

Laverne and Shirley returned, laughing and surprisingly light, to Alessia DeFazio's home at six sharp. The place was deserted, except for the sound of Mario Lanza and the smell of peppers roasting. 

"I'm going to go change for tonight," Shirley said. "If your Grandmother needs me, come get me."

"Okay," Laverne stowed her purse in the living room, then strode purposefully into the kitchen, where she found her grandmother humming over a pot of meat sauce.

"There you are, bambina!" She directed her granddaughter to the kitchen table. "I changed my mind - we're making chicken cacciatore!"

Laverne looked at the two whole, and completely unappealing, chicken carcasses and shivered. "You want me to cut 'em up?"

"While I get the sauce ready, please." She handed Laverne a cleaver and turned back to the stove.

Facing down the pile of meat, Laverne's mind drifted as her knife tarried against the skin. She wondered again what the fortune teller had meant - dancing? How in the world could she be meant for dancing? She had a little professional training, but every dancer - the only dancer - she knew made absolutely no money. She supposed it was better than bottling beer all day, but the idea came from left field and felt wildly impractical. Why was she wasting time wondering about it - Madame Mimi was just a charlatan, like every other palmist in Brooklyn.

Then how did she guess how I felt about her?

It must have been obvious on her face - Laverne had never been tactful. It was her brain and her virtue. The woman had read disgust and just made up the rest. 

And as for that 'choice' - something she obviously didn't have to make, since she didn't love Lenny - she supposed a lifetime of 'fun' would be all right, even without the love. It was Shirley who was hysterical about marriage, Shirley who had become unglued when the prospect of never being married had arisen. 

_You don't love Lenny. Good thing you figured that out, huh? At least it won't make a difference when you tell him tonight that yesterday was a mistake. He won't blame you for going a little crazy. Your feelings have been all turned around ever since you got here, and that's how you mistook friendship for love. He did the same with you, so he'll understand. Easy as that._

It was New York, Laverne guessed - that old town filled with glitter and romance. It turned your heart around, made you think you're in love with someone you usually couldn't stand. Lenny had done some pretty horrible things to her, she recalled. It didn't take her very long to conjure up a thousand impropriety gropes, a million stolen kisses, a few mean-spirited words entrances without a knock. Then again, she and Lenny related to one another like a couple of kids on the playground, pulling braids and kicking shins to show affection. But then there were the wonderful things - from taking her to the debutante ball to proposing marriage during her pregnancy scare. He believed in her, and not even her Pop had expressed that much faith in her. For every bad memory she conjured, a sweet one emerged. No, she didn't really dislike him - it was impossible for her not to love him as a friend - as a goofy younger brother. Yet what made her kiss him repeatedly?

"Bambina, you're cutting the table cloth!"

"Sorry, Grandma," she came out of her trance. The chicken had been completely eviscerated beneath her uncaring touch, her fingers slippery from their innards. Maggie had emerged from underneath the table and begun to lick at her digits. She hoped that wouldn't hurt her and pulled her hand away, causing the dog to whine. "I gotta wash my hands."

"Go ahead - I'll take these and put them in the oven," Alessia was already arranging the chicken pieces in a large dish. Laverne went to the sink and turned on the water, scrubbing her hands, watching her grandmother cross the floor and then begin ladling marinara all over the chicken parts. As Laverne turned off the taps, Alessia slipped the chicken in the oven. 

"Where is everyone?" She asked.

"I forgot the wonderful news!" She smiled. "Your cousin Philomena went into labor!"

"Philomena’s pregnant?" Laverne recalled her cousin - chubby, knock-kneed, crossed eyed. Her age. "When did she get married?" She had vague memories of turning down an invitation, unable to get time off from Shotz but nothing concrete. 

"A year ago! Your Aunt Morena hopes for a son," Alessia chuckled. "She has no idea of the value of a woman. Your father went to the hospital with Edna."

"Where are Lenny and Squiggy?"

Alessia seemed more hesitant to reveal this. "They went to run an errand for me. They will be back for dinner!"

"Oh!" Laverne realized. "I'm sorry. Me and Shirl had a late lunch, I don't think I'll be hungry for anything."

"It is all right. And good - you spent time together!"

"It was real nice. But me and Shirl spend all day together at home."

"I remember when you would come to see me from school - you would tell me all about little Shirley Feeney and your adventures..."

"Adventures! I remember - I got something for you and Pop," she went back to her purse, which had been stashed on the kitchen table, picking up the pink box of cannolis and handing it to her Grandmother. "Mister Smith said hello."

"Cannolis!" Alessia squeezed Laverne's chin between her hands. "What a thoughtful bambina!"

"Gramma, I only get one chin!"

Alessia released Laverne. "Sorry. You get me excited!" Alessia took the box to the refrigerator, then turned to the table. "I'll have it right now!"

"Okay, I'll go to the living room. I wanna listen to Mario Lanza before I go down to watch the armature singing contest."

Grandma shuddered. "That noise! That's why I'm playing him so loud. These modern singers with their guitars!!" She threw her arms up at the impertinence of Laverne's generation - modern as Alessia could be, some things were lost in the translation.

"I'll tell 'em to keep it down for you," she laughed. As Alessia busied herself with the treat, Laverne entered the living room.

She sat down on the couch and did nothing but listen to the music. Mario Lanza had a way of yowling, she realized - a way of showing undeniable pain with his voice. It reminded her of Lenny - who tended to use sarcasm the same sort of way. The thought of him drove away her peace, drove her from the room, up the hallway - but before she reached the room, she stopped before her grandmother's curio. Laverne knelt before it, staring inside - looking at the little portrait of herself at her christening, locked away beneath glass and brass.

_She had been crying all day. Her mother had helped her practice her catechism every day, no matter how hard she coughed or how tired she was. It was bitterly ironic that her little girl had completed her CCD classes a week before her final hospitalization. The last two recitations had been practiced from her bed in the hospital. For four weeks now, Josephine had lain in the ground. It was her father's idea to go through with the ceremony Josephine had worked so hard to prepare her for as a way of getting on with their lives._

_Laverne didn't feel like accepting God as her savior. He had just decided to take her Mamma away. Didn't He know how much she was needed by her little girl? Mama had wanted her confirmation to take place in Grandma's big church, the one with the huge windows, but her Pop had insisted it was too expensive to fly back to New York - all of the money they had saved went to the undertaker from the Blessed Assurance Funeral Parlor. So her confirmation took place among her big CCD class at the Saint Vincent Church in Milwaukee. Even the weather was yucky to her - too cool for a spring celebration. She couldn't help but believe that everything in New York, at that very moment, was perfect. So it was like to her grave she marched into Saint Vincent's, holding between her gloved fingers a tiny white Bible._

_"Hey Laverne!"_

_The voice made her turn away from the pack of similarly-dressed girls around her - it was a boy's voice. She saw him, then - Lenny Kosnowski, in his best Sunday suit, hanging upside-down from a tree branch in the courtyard. When he knew she was watching him, he stuck his index fingers into the corners of his mouth and made an outrageous face, adding a "bleh!" for good measure._

_Laverne burst out laughing - a miracle. Her first real expression of joy since her mother's death._

And he'd gone on trying to make her laugh since then, she realized. Lenny seemed to live to make things all right for her - on putting her back together when things were falling apart. Similarly, he came to her for the same sort of mothering - loving from a motherless child to a motherless child. They had raised one another, and she realized that she depended on Lenny to be there, to help her pry her head out of her ass and move on with life. The same way he relied on her to give him courage in the face of numbness. It occurred to Laverne that they were pieces of each other - flawed puzzle portions that became whole when put together. It was a stunning revelation. She felt as if she had been struggling against ties binding her for years, only to look over her shoulder and realize the bonds were only mental. 

The little girl in the case was far more fortunate than she had believed, Laverne realized grimly. She never had to struggle against her self-doubt. A gypsy's prophecy would have been laughed off just as quickly out loud, but it never would have stuck within. The idea of being loved by Lenny Kosnowski would have been nothing more than a chuckle between friends. Now it was a real possibility.

Tears began to pour from her eyes. Damn him for changing the status quo! She was so lost to her own misery that she did not feel the shaggy presence of Maggie until she began licking her face, whimpering in confusion at her pain.

"Maggie," she snuggled the dog. "You're such a good girl." And she knew how to make Laverne feel better - just like her master. "You know I like Lenny, don't you?"

The dog wagged her tail and barked. 

"You're smarter than Lassie," she smirked. The dog rolled over on her back, demanding Laverne pet her - and Laverne did as requested. "You're hard to ignore, too. Just like him."

"Bambina!" Alessia entered the hallway. "So this is where Maggie went!" The dog got up and went over to the old woman, wagging her tail energetically. "I have dinner for you!" She led her away, and when she returned for her Granddaughter she saw Laverne staring at the Communion picture. "You and Leonardo love that picture."

"Lenny was looking at it?"

She nodded her head. "You remember telling me about the little girl. Do you remember telling me about the little boy?"

"I didn't talk about Lenny!" Laverne insisted sharply. 

"Did you not? I remember a little girl who would eat cannolis at my kitchen table. 'I have a friend,' she would say. 'He's a boy named Lenny. He has a bicycle and he let me ride it...'"

"I don't remember," Laverne admitted. "Grandma, how can I love him? He's gross, and he can be mean, and he's..."

"...been there through your life, and you just noticed him." Laverne leaned against her grandmother's shoulder. "Sometimes, love is this way. It is hidden inside. The ones with courage face it embrace it," Laverne knew that Alessia would never tell her exactly what she should do, and instead of adding a benediction to her statement she stood. "Come now - we get ready for the entertainment!"

At least, she thought to herself, there was someone she could please - even if her relationship with her grandmother was built on comforting lies.

***

After some primping, Laverne emerged from the building. It was past nine, and the armature’s contest was in full swing - a skinny man with a black tie and white suit was massacring Ray Walker Jr.'s "Shotgun" up on the ribbon-festooned bandstand. The street was filled with couples of all ages dancing madly in the night, and at the center of the activity was Shirley, with Antony - whirling without a care in the world. Laverne went unnoticed among them, trying to find a handsome smile and an empty pair of arms to drive away her uncertainty - there were no available parties.

When Squiggy came up to her and uttered his familiar "Hello," she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

"Whatt're you doing?! Trying to kill me?"

"Like you're tryin' to kill Len?" he asked tartly. "Don't make that face at me, you she-devil! I been stuck with Lenny all day, and every other word out of his mouth was 'Laverne'. You know how hard I worked to scrape your name outta the bathroom wall of his mind?"

Laverne stiffened her posture. "Don't worry about it, Squig. I'm gonna turn him down easy later on."

"Yeah, yeah - just don't break his heart no more. Or I'll...I'll rip off your L!"

Laverne calmly cracked her knuckles - and Squiggy quickly merged with the rest of the crowd. 

The band onstage played off the competitor. "Tony Amaral, everyone!" Cajoled the bald-plated MC from the microphone. Polite applause and a bit of girlish screaming perfumed the air. "I'm sure you all know why we're here - for the Feast of the Blessed Virgin! Tonight's gratuity will go to rebuilding a stained glass window in Saint Anthony's Parish, and even a little bit helps!"

Laverne drifted through the crowd, trying to find Lenny. The bandstand had been erected just beyond the craft booths, and was surrounded completely by teenaged girls in their tee shirts and dressed and capri pants. Laverne felt another shock of envy for those worry-free girls and their careless grinning. She came up close to the bandstand, resting her chin against it. Festooned with red and green streamers, the structure looked like one of the floats left over from the previous day's parade. 

Standing beside the MC was the next act - an Elvis imitator, she thought with some disdain, in leather pants and a jacket and bowl cut dirty blond hair. "Next up is one half of the Squiggtones - what's a Sqiggtone?" He received no response for his question. "The Polish Bobby Vinton - Leonard Kosnowski!"

Laverne's jaw dropped. THAT was Lenny? That leather-suited, grimacing, guitar-playing fool was Lenny?

She hated it. But the bandstand groupies did not agree. Lenny peered through the small lights surrounding the stage. He scanned the crowd for Laverne and, when he found her, gave her a wise-ass smile, and then began the opening chords of "Not Fade Away".

Laverne had forgotten Lenny's talent - mostly because it was obscured often by Squiggy's songwriting and clarinet playing. He did fair credit to Buddy -and then Gene Vincent, when the applause demanded he do an encore. Laverne was enraptured by the freshness of his talent but could not get over her inexplicable anger over his image change.

Two performers later, the contest ended, and Lenny won by a huge margin of applause. His prize was a ten-dollar gift certificate to Old Bob's Records, which he embraced to his chest like a long-lost child. After a few bows, Lenny jumped off of the stage and parted the grasping cluster of teenagers to get to her.

"Well, whattya think?" He said, and then posed in a 'ta-da' manner.

She regarded him cooly. "I think you look stupid."

He frowned. "You mean you don't like the new me?"

"No!" She blurted out. "I hate it!"

"Why?"

"'Cause this ain't you? It makes you look like a sleazy gang member, not like the guy I -" She covered her mouth and backtracked. "I mean..."

"You mean that you like me the way I really me. And changing me makes you mad."

She stuck out her jaw and refused to meet his gaze. 

"You like me for me," he said. "You don't want me to be someone else 'cause if I change, I might get someone else to like me just as much!"

"I get it, Len," she said quietly. 

"Did it bug you - all those girls screaming for me?"

Her eyes darted. He knew what that meant. He covered the distance between them.

"Your grandma was right." Laverne knew somehow - that this makeover was her grandmother's idea, but she pretended ignorance. "She said you'd hate it."

"She knows me. I...I'm real mad at her...I...like the real you Lenny. I don't know what else there is to say..."

"I asked her what would make you mad and she said this would do it." He rocked back on his heels. "Do you want to dance? Even tho it's with the new me?"

Her feet were already moving. It was like being under the influence of a drug - Every dance from there on in seemed to happen naturally, without a single question between them. Her brain had turned itself off, replaced by a warm feeling of fatalism.

During the last slow dance of the night, she looked up into Lenny's eyes and felt overwhelmed. All of the love she had denied was right there. All of the love that she felt rose in response. She couldn't even admit it to herself. He took advantage of her confusion by covering her mouth with a kiss. That kiss followed two more, until Laverne wasn't quite sure what was up and what was down anymore. They were suspended in air, in space, in time. 

The die was casting itself. She felt it go and let go with it. He had crawled under her skin and there was only one way to quench her need.

"What're we doing?" He wondered. She took his hand in hers, walking toward the building. His feet were like lead. "We can't - your grandmother'll see - your Pop - Shirl...LAVERNE!"

Her hands were in his back pockets, pulling him close - the words came out in a whisper. "I know somewhere we can go," she said softly.

"You mean...you want to?"

The night was crazy. It was magic, right in the middle of a middle-class neighborhood in Brooklyn. All of the calculation within her had been swept away by animal reason, and all it took was the sight of him pretending to be someone else for her to realize how foolish she was to throw away who he could really be. Now, nothing mattered was the two of them and the sticky Brooklyn evening.

Her fingers closed over his, cradling their bigness against her feminine, smaller ones. "I want to," she said, pulling him upstairs and into her grandmother's building.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up on the roof...

Laverne pushed a last bit of beef-flavored dog food from the edge of the can, and then set the red plastic dish on the floor for an enthusiastic Maggie. The dog began to eat avidly. Laverne watched her as she washed her hands - reminded of her master - wondering what was in store for her tonight. She wondered if telling Lenny go ahead of her to the roof was a good idea, but he insisted on making things comfortable for her. She placed a full bowl of water on the floor before ducking out of the apartment and heading left, toward a small service elevator that was used by infirm tenants and maintenance men. 

She wrung her hands as the elevator ascended through the concrete epidermis of her grandmother's building. Lenny had been surprised that she knew of an alternate way to the roof of 1212 Morning Lane, but her creativity shouldn't have surprised him; she and Antony had craved entertainment during their parent's long, boring, adult-orientated visits with her Grandmother. The unused back elevator was excellent for the clandestine task they were about to undertake.

The madness of the moment had Laverne in its grip - the shock of feeling desire where none lived before. What scared her was the notion that she had always wanted him but had put herself in a state of denial because of what loving a man like Lenny represented. He was unorthodox, perverse, and childlike - yet incredibly wise in certain ways, with occasional displays of maturity that surpassed hers.

She had no more time to think over the decision - she hit the top floor. Quickly, she unlatched the gate and stepped out onto the cement - and what sat before her took her breath away.

Lenny had found candles somehow, and they ringed a little nest of blankets and pillows near the center of the bare roof. At the head of the pillows stood a hurricane lantern. She recognized each item - her grandmother's spare blankets and sheets and pillows, citronella candles Antony had brought over for the dinner, and the hurricane lamp her grandmother had brought all the way over from Italy. And sitting in the middle of the blankets, his legs crossed Indian-style, was Lenny.

He had taken off the leather jacket, but the rest of his ensemble remained as it had been. He lit up like the flames licking around his body and began to rise to greet her, but instead she climbed over the lantern and knelt before him.

"You look beautiful." He sounded overawed.

She hadn't done anything to her appearance. "In this?" she shrugged.

"Uh huh," he smiled. "But it'd look better on the ground."

"Well...I can make that happen," she caught her right index finger in the thick strap of her off-the-shoulder blouse and began to tug it down. His hand encircled her upper arm. 

"Laverne," he said anxiously. "You sure we ain't moving too fast?"

Her grin dazzled him. "Since when've we ever moved slow?" She walked on her knees until the space between them was infinitesimal, then looped her right arm around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Kissing him was certain sweetness - not sharply erotic in the moment. He tasted surprisingly fresh, herbal, like oregano or basil, and when her tongue flicked against the tip of his he moaned. His right hand cupped the back of her head and propped it up, allowing his tongue to move more aggressively - it was suddenly her turn to moan. The kiss gained momentum, like lava sizzling down the side of a volcano - her breath heated, quickened, came out in little staccato blasts. He pulled his mouth away from hers and buried his face against the side of her neck, taking little nips and sucks as his lips slipped down to her bare right shoulder. 

Their position was, suddenly, restrictive. Laverne leaned back until she settled onto her rear end, and Lenny did the same, then leaning through the space until she lay on her back.

His mouth made butterfly strokes against her collarbone and the barely-visible mount of her cleavage, spreading little licks of fire to her nipples. She held his dirty-blond head to her breastbone, enjoying the slow building of her arousal. Soon it began to feel like slow torture, so she pushed against his chest until he got the hint and shifted away from her.

Laverne sat up and reached toward her back, finding the miniscule white zipper that held her top together. Lenny watched her, panting, the high tone of color in his cheeks a sign of his mounting pleasure. Under his penetrative gaze, she pulled down the zipper, unhooked it, then pressed her right palm over her breast and the white "L" there, teasing him by keeping the top in position. His eyes were fixed upon her face, a tender self-effacing look there. She realized that he didn't expect to see her, and was waiting for her to leave him there.

Her hand came away. The blouse sagged down her arms, revealing her bra.

Now he was convinced. The blue eyes turned a darker shade, and she replied with a little grin and a shimmy, untucking the blouse from her belt and tossing it over the reach of the candles. She leaned back on her right arm, trying to beguile him like a pin-up star, the fingers on her left hand arched upon her belly. 

"Should I take the bra off?"

He nodded his head.

She liked being in control for once - she normally enjoyed it when the man was the aggressor, but it went without saying that Lenny needed direction. Her hands went behind her back, unclasping the bra with practiced ease, then brushing it down her torso until she was exposed to his eyes.

He cherished her with his eyes like she was a beauty queen - the way he did when she was even at her worst. The look was familiar, and it broke her heart that she'd never recognized it before. The cool reserve she displayed became a lie - in that sole instant, he had found a way through the wall of bland experience. "I'm getting cold," she whispered. 

His expression became raunchier - the large hands reached out for her and captured her about the ribcage, pulling her to him for another kiss. 

This one proved to be instant fire - the taste of him burning through her and causing a keen yearning in her mind. His hands drifted up her ribcage, both thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, lifting them up as the other fingers came around to cup the soft weight of them.

Laverne knew that her chest wasn't as impressive as some girl's (but, mercifully and unlike Shirley, she didn't need to stuff her bra with socks). But Lenny seemed pleased with it - as pleased as a man who was obviously into legs could be. He pulled his tongue out of her mouth, pressing kisses to her chin before licking his way down her throat and planting kissed on the tops of each breast. Laverne arched her back, bringing his mouth in contact with a spot further down the breast - making her shiver.

He was bent uncomfortably over, his spine crooked, but his mouth laved the tops of her breast, coming closer to her nipples, the faint wrinkle of her areola. First with dry kisses, then little flicks of his tongue, Lenny made his way down her right breast, until he popped her right nipple into his mouth and gave the bud one gentle suck.

Laverne's nerves sizzled. Her hands clutched the back of his head, a soft sigh escaping her lips, the pleasure increasing steeply. He somehow knew just how hard to suckle, and for how long before switching to her left breast - she closed her eyes and leaned back in his arms, hanging suspend in his grip, allowing the pleasure to string in bright lines from her toes to the top of her head.

As good as it felt, frustration returned - she wanted more of him, and now. Instead of crushing his feelings, she decided to distract him by removing some of his clothing. Accordingly, her hands balled up against his back, pulling at the material of his tee-shirt - she tugged upward until he was forced to release her breast and allow her to pull it over his head, the soft cotton another arousal to her overestimated nipples. 

She pressed against his chest until he sat back, and then stroked the surprising firmness of his chest. Lenny wasn't as sculpted as her athletic previous boyfriends - instead, there was firmness, a masculine strength thanks to his cycling and fondness for shadow boxing. She hadn't noticed the manliness he possessed - his adam's apple bobbed as she twirled the barely-visible hair marking the treasure trail to his beltline.

When she tickled his belly, she felt his flesh spasm, holding in a laugh. His skin seemed to be so sensitive - no wonder. Lenny had been denied a loving touch for so much of his life. Driven by a somewhat motherly impulse, Laverne pushed him back until he lay flat on the quilts, kissing and licking his throat, collarbone, chest and stomach. When she finished, he was almost vibrating. Her mouth hovered over his beltline as she bent over him, her breath caressing what his jeans hid.

He pushed at her shoulder. "I gotta get my pants off..."

The urgency in his voice gave her ego a boost. "Let me..." 

"I don't think I can take that!"

From the tone in his voice, she doubted he could. Sitting back, she gave up her position of dominance. "Then you do it."

His hands flew down to his belt buckle, and she took the opportunity to unzip the hip clasp of her skirt, and began to shimmy out of it.

He was quicker than she, and he pressed his hands to her descending ones. "I dreamed about seeing you like this for so long. Do it slow."

Laverne grinned, slipping the skirt slowly down her hips - lifting them up and letting the material glide, until she could pull it away from her feet and toss them into the pile outside of the ring of light they inhabited. His laugh melted the heat of her seduction, and when she realized what he was laughing at her skin flushed crimson.

Lenny had likely expected something sexy from her - lacy things that could give a dead man an erection. Instead, Laverne Defazio had come to their erotic camp-out in granny panties.

She pouted at him and flopped onto her back. "I was going to my grandma's. I didn't think..." He gave her a smart look. "...and if I was going to I didn't expect there to be so much light!" she flopped down beside him on the ground.

"Did I do good?" he turned on his side, his hand tracing the rise of her hip. "I wanted to see you."

She realized, ultimately, that she didn't mind him looking at her like this. "Yeah, Len - I'm glad you can see me." Her hand went down to his hip, then pulled at the tented red boxer shorts he wore. "When do I get to see you?"

He licked his lips. "You sure?"

She nodded. 

He sighed, then sat up, squirming out of his shorts. They were discarded to the pile, but he covered himself with his right hand.

"You don't gotta be embarrassed..." she tugged at his wrist gently, until he let go of himself. What she finally saw his cock, she felt herself begin to drool. He looked good. "Mmm - I like..." She reached out for him, but he shied away.

"I don't think you can touch it - I'm real nervous and you got me all excited, and..." She kissed his lips for comfort, and he groaned. "I think I should take care of you."

She couldn't disagree with that idea. "What do you want me to do?"

"Sit up again..." She did. He took her by the hand and scooted her backward, until she sat between his bare knees, pressed against his chest and ribs. "You can lean up against me...like that..." she rested against his chest, leaving the entire front of her body exposed to his hands...and leaving a space between his hips and hers. He began kissing her neck, and his touch was initially a tickle. He turned her head and kissed her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Both hands cupped her breasts, massaging and stroking her, spreading heat through her body. She moaned at his touch, allowing herself to relax and simply let it happen. As she sagged against his chest, his right hand slipped down her belly, over the reddish fleece of her sex.

Laverne shivered, her legs falling apart - his fingers massaged her inner thighs, coaxing her open when she needed no persuasion. His middle finger traced down the divide of her lips, drawing moisture upward, toward her clitoris - she let out an encouraging sigh, reaching down and holding herself open for his exploration.

To her surprise, he found where her desire centered with a relative amount of ease. After a few false tries, he began teasing around the center of it, pulling pleasure down her hips. She began to ride against what she was feeling, moving in concert with his touch, supported almost entirely by his chest - while she was lost within that pleasure, he slipped two fingers within her.

Gently, he created a backward-and-forward rhythm inside of her, adding friction, causing her to whine and moan and toss her head. His thumb began to rock against the side of her clit, knowing enough not to touch it directly, knowing enough to make the nails on her right hand dig into his thigh as she nearly wept from the beauty of the sensation. 

How did he know how to do it? She always assumed he had little to no experience with women. Dazedly, she leaned back against his shoulder, capturing his blue eyes, which had been focused on her sex. 

"Close?" He asked.

She groaned and arched her hips, beyond even words.

"C'Mon, Vernie...c'mon..."

His words were throaty and encouraging, and they freed her from whatever had been holding her back. Her last sane thought was in wonderment of his dexterity. _He's a guitarist, dummy,_ came the clear answer before her body sagged back in pleasure, contracting around his fingers in complete fulfillment.

In the throbbing afterward of her orgasm, Laverne knew nothing. When her body was placed gently on the ground, she did nothing but smile. In the distance she heard a foil wrapper tear - felt Lenny nearly trip over her as he clambered between her thighs. His calloused and still-damp fingers cupped the back of her left leg, pulling her buttocks onto his knees and spreading her open. In a second, he was inside of her. 

The thrill of this brought her back to the world. Suddenly, the heat began to build again. She appreciatively wrapped her hands around his hips, pulling him deeper inside of her. His groans were helpless as his body surrounded hers, his hips swinging frantically against hers. The thrill built for Laverne, the mild pleasure sweetening by the minute. Their rhythm was fast - too fast. She wanted to tell him to slow down, but his expression showed he was beyond comprehension. On the third stroke, his entire body shuddered, his hips thrusting hard into her three more times before he collapsed against her body.

Laverne felt a weak peace, and simultaneously a bittersweet yearning. She had just begun to build toward another climax when he lost it, and her honest reaction was a whispered, "Already?"

He was off her like a shot, sitting up and curling his knees under her chin. She was dismayed by the loss of his heat and rose up behind him. She made a guess at why what she had said would bother him and gave Lenny a gentle rub to the shoulders.

"It's okay, Len - that happens to guys a lot when it's their first time."

He glared at her. "That wasn't my first time."

"Oh..." Her fingers whispered over his shoulders before she rested her chin against his left blade. 

"It's your fault," he complained. "You got me all excited when you grabbed and pulled me like that."

"How long's it been for you?"

He laughed sarcastically. "Too long." He looked down at himself, at his limp member, and carefully rolled the condom up and off of himself and placed it outside of their ring of fire. Then he turned around until he could wrap his arms around her.

It was a strange time for a cuddle, but Laverne understood that Lenny needed physical affection more than any of the men she'd been with before. She held him to her chest, taking in the clean scent of his hair - she realized that he'd taken a bath while she was gone. Kissing the top of his head, she cradled him, feeling needed, feeling strong. 

He kissed her shoulder, her neck - speeding goosebumps across her flesh. "Len..." She whispered.

"I know you were close," he muttered. "Let me."

"Would you do something for me?" she wondered.

"Hmm?"

"I want you to kiss me."

He tilted his mouth toward her.

"Not on the mouth..."

He frowned, but lowered his head to her shoulder.

"Lower."

He kissed her nipple.

"Lower than that..."

He got down on his belly to kiss her navel.

"Almost."

He looked up at her, chin bone pressing into her belly, confusion in his eyes. "You want me to kiss you down there?"

"Yes..."

Now there was panic in his face. "I ain't ever done that before..."

"But no one's ever done that for me."

A gleam of determination. "Not Fonzie?"

"No one."

He pressed his palm against her belly, laying her flat against the blankets. "Relax," he ordered, and she tried to. He nibbled at the lower part of her abdomen, sucking bites leading downward, through the thickness of her pubic hair, until his breath whispered over her exposed lips. She reached down, holding herself open for him once more, and he curiously flicked his tongue against them. Laverne shivered as heat raced through her - Lenny sped up the vibrations of his tongue in response.

As she expected, he wasn't as adroit with his mouth as he had been with his fingers. He had little to no experience with this form of arousal, neither did she - only that she was greedy for an orgasm, and had never experienced one this way, and wanted him to be the first. Deep within herself, she knew that it could only end with him inside of her, where he lay beneath her skin, where he had crawled throughout the week. She wrapped her arms around the back of his head, and he buried his face against her pussy, jamming his tongue where he logically believed her clitoris should be.

He was several inches too low, and ended up flattening his tongue further down. Frustrated, she yanked on his hair, and his hands cupped her hips and squeezed hard, telling her to stop without words. He shifted upward, his tongue darting around, missing her repeatedly until he at last found what he was looking for - the up thrust of her hips and the floaty sigh that came from her proved a good signal for him.

The direct vibrations to her clitoris were more than enough to bring Laverne over the line. Her orgasm was brief, blistering and sent her into another universe for a short while. She felt Lenny's head drop against her belly as he panted from lack of oxygen.

When she recovered herself, Laverne looked down at Lenny and stroked the back of his head. "I want to do something for you..."

He shook his head. "You wear me out..." He rested his face against her. "I wanted tonight to be about you. You don't...."

"But you deserve..."

"Shh. I wanted to show you how happy I can make you."

"I'm more than happy, Len. No one else has ever been so sweet to me. But you deserve more, too."

"It's okay..."

"No it's not." She pressed against his chest until he rolled over, and then straddled him with her legs. 

"I ain't ever done twice in one night," he muttered softly. She caressed the sharp plane of his left cheek, sweetly as she could manage.

"If you can't, it's okay. Stuff like this takes practice."

Questions danced in his eyes, but she ignored them. She turned over until her face hovered above his belly. The tip of her tongue caressed his flagging erection, deliberately being a tease - despite his protests, the organ jerked toward her mouth. She grinned up the length of his body and he blushed. She cupped his balls in her right hand, trying to steady him and make the meeting of her mouth and his cock nothing but velvet.

She lapped the miniscule line of seamen from the red tip of his cock down to its mid-point - she took a moment to savor the taste of him before pulling the length of the erection down her throat.

He made a dramatic noise that was between a gasp and a sob - Laverne tried not to smile, for that would surely make her gag. Slowly, gently, she worked him into and out of her mouth, applying careful suction and the occasional lap with her tongue. She knew how to give head after years of practice, and Lenny was a loud, overawed recipient of her technique. 

It wasn't something she quite savored, but he was so happy and satisfied that she didn't mind the discomfort. Two, three, four, five - he stiffened and groaned, choking her for a moment in his passion before dying away on a muffled whimper. Laverne felt a little shock of disappointment – she wouldn’t have him inside of her again, at least not this night. 

Laverne rested her head against Lenny's soft belly. "You made me come twice, I make you come twice. It's fair."

He nodded his head, and then tilted her head up until she looked into his eyes. She pulled herself up his body, and he rushed into speech. "I love you, Laverne - and you don't need to say you love me, too - but I love you. All the girls I was with before kicked me out after we finished - told me that I was bad and that they didn't want to see me anymore. I had to make it the best for you, so I didn't pay attention to myself...too much. So you wouldn't want to leave me."

His words melted her completely. She embraced him. "I'm not gonna leave you. I love you too much."

"You don't have to say that..."

"I mean it. That's why I said it."

He looked up at her, with a face filled with wonder. "I never thought I'd ever hear you tell me that."

"I never thought I'd be telling you it," she pulled him up her body, urging him to rest beside her. "This whole trip's made me look at us different. I don't know what's gonna happen after tonight, but I'm not sorry for being here with you right now. And I'm not sorry to say it."

He wrapped his arm around her. "I still don't believe that you love me."

Hearing him say that brought Laverne back to reality. She had told him something she had barely figured out, and now she couldn't take it back. Laverne, who had never been in love with a man in her life, was now attached to a boy she'd known since she was six, a boy whom she knew everything about and whose troubles she understood. She was tied to him through the bond of their flesh, and she'd never be able to see him again without thinking of tonight, or craving more.

She watched him sleep on her shoulder for an hour before falling into a deep sleep of her own. If he had never felt so loved in his life, then she had never felt so scared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Building nations, brick by brick.

Andrew Squiggman was not having a cheerful morning. 

Firstly, it was an early one - seven o'clock - and he hated getting up anywhere before noon. Secondly, he had been woken up by the eager licking of Lenny's mutt, which meant no one had bothered to feed the creature that morning. Third, when he finally gave in to the poor dog's whining and got into the kitchen, he found Shirley Feeney sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and staring into space. 

"Figures you'd be up," he'd muttered.

Tears sprung to the brunette's eyes. "And just what does that mean?"

Squiggy backed away from the intensity of Shirley's voice. "Geez, can't a guy get up in this place without facing the Spanish Exposition?"

"What are you doing up this early?" Shirley asked.

"I ain't 'up this early,'" he mocked, pointed at Maggie, who had begun pacing back and forth from Andrew to the cabinet where her food had been stored and dropped down onto her rear end, obviously expectant. "She wanted breakfast."

"Oh," Shirley mechanically walked over to the cupboard, rummaging for the can of Alpo Maggie had been begging for. She dumped the beefy mess into the dog's bowl and placed it on the floor, where the creature began lapping it up. "Could you get her some water?"

"No! Me and water ain't gotten together in two years, and that's how I like it."

"Only two years?" Shirley muttered, turning to the sink and running the tap into a dish. 

Squiggy watched her, confused by the tension in her composition. "What crawled up your kiester?"

She whirled around, leaving a puddle of water on the floor. "That's none of your business!" At his confused look, she mollified her anger. "It's been a long night, Andrew."

"Yeah, I heard Laverne's cousin's having her kid. She keep you up all night talking about it?"

"No - as a matter of fact, I haven't seen Laverne since the dance last night," Shirley nibbled her thumb.

"So that's it, eh? Laverne ran off with some cop and left you a wallpaper?"

"Wallflower?"

"I'm allergic."

The opening of a door and a few muffled words stopped their conversation dead. They shared a worried look and simultaneously made for the door, Maggie on their heels. The voices were mercifully familiar, but curiously intimate.

Shirley got to the door first, and Squiggy butted his head into her ribs in an attempt to stop her progress. They noticed at the same time that it was Lenny, trying to make himself bland and unremarkable on the couch. 

"Where've you been?" Squiggy whined. "I had to get up early and feed your dumb..."

Maggie shoved Squiggy aside, then jumped onto the couch beside her master for a hug and a kiss. "Aww, thanks! You didn't have to do that for me."

"Your dog was licking my face off! If I didn't get her dinner, she'd've eaten me." Maggie barked happily, and Squiggy backed up a bit.

"Have you seen Laverne?" Shirley asked with urgency in her voice.

"Uh...I think she's in the bathroom..." Shirley pivoted out of the doorway and down the hall. "I think she's on the..." The bathroom door shut, closing the girls inside. "I warned her - didn't I, Maggie-waggie?" Lenny asked his dog, who strained up under his hand as he messed with her fur.

Squiggy pouted. "I lost beauty sleep to feed that mutt and she still likes you better!"

"Maybe she'd like you if you didn't call her a mutt! Sides, we both know you're scared of animals!" 

"Not _every_ animal! And she don't understand me! I could call her Godzilla breath and she wouldn't care!" Squiggy bent over the couch and tried to pet Maggie, but the dog snarled and backed away. "Control that thing!" Squiggy ordered his friend.

"She thinks you're gonna hurt me. Maggie's only being a good girl!" He allowed the dog to lave his face with her tongue before gently dismissing her to the floor. Lenny stood up, stretching his muscles and yawning. "Did Shirley put any grub on the stove?"

"She made coffee," Squiggy tossed himself onto the unoccupied sofa and picked up a Life Magazine which had been left on the coffee table. He became very absorbed in a layout of Jayne Mansfield swimsuit photos until his roommate’s piercing whistling distracted him. Lenny's whistling - one of the few things that could break his concentration - came directly from his nose in a shrill whine that cut down Squiggy's spine. He tossed down the magazine and glared at the kitchen door. He couldn't fathom what his roommate was so cheerful for, and he only tended to whistle when he was overjoyed. Usually after a really good date. Usually, he leered to himself, after a sleepover. Very, very slowly, the puzzle slipped into place in Squiggy's mind. 

Lenny emerged, with an apple and a cup of coffee. Squiggy grinned. "You sly dog!"

A flicker of panic crossed Lenny's features, but Squiggy was ignorant of such subtitles. "Anyone with half a brain could find a coffee cup."

"Did you do it?"

"Huh?" He took a large bite of his apple, anxiety in his eyes.

"You did! You did it with Laverne!" Lenny choked on his apple. "Didn't you?" Lenny gave Squiggy a miserable look as he cleared a few chunks of fruit from his lungs with a brisk cough. "You really did. I don't believe it! I guess Missus DeFazio is a smart chick after all," Squiggy said, somewhat awed that her plan had worked. 

Lenny smiled. "Yeah, she is."

"One of the few," Squiggy squirmed around until he was on his knees, facing the back of the couch and following Lenny's progress across the room. "So...how was it?"

He gave his head a proud tilt. "Gentlemen don't talk."

"This ain't the eighteen hundreds!" Lenny pulled out a dining room chair, examined his apple, then allowed Maggie to eat what was left. "If you tell me, I'll tell you about my night of passion with one Miss Wilma Barber from Yeast."

Lenny was visibly tempted. Squiggy had always held that story back, juicily out of reach. He leaned across the table. 

"You first."

***

Laverne rested her head against the hard rim of her grandmother's antique tub. Steam rose to meet the cool morning air, hydrating her sinuses and dampening her loosely tied hair. She had poured twice the usual amount of her Grandma's special home-bottled bath oil into the tub, but beneath the complex scent of roses and freesia, she could still smell Lenny's musk. Maybe it was a mental sensation, not an olfactoral one. Every plane of skin tingled when recalling the night previous.

She had said she loved him.

What a mess.

Her minisecond of private reflection was shattered when the bathroom door opened, and a wild-eyed Shirley whirled into the room, shutting the door tight behind her. With a modesty she'd never felt before, Laverne tried to arrange the mountains of bubbles pouring over the rim of the tub over her private parts - foolishly, everything was hidden from Shirley's gaze.

How had they woken her up? She and Lenny had been very quiet in entering the apartment and saying their goodbyes. There was a brick wall between the guest bedroom and the bath, so the running water couldn't have woken her. With an over bright smile, Laverne sat up. 

"Good morning, Shirl."

"Good morning? Good morning?!" Her best friend's voice sent Laverne beneath the water headfirst, hiding beneath the mountainous bubbles. "Laverne!" She heard Shirley shouting. "I'm going to figure out the truth either way..." Laverne closed her eyes, holding her breath. "Laverne! You'll drown!" In response, she began mentally humming "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" through her nose. "If you don't come up for air, I'll march right out of this door and tell Lenny and Squiggy that you went to the prom with your Cousin Vito!"

Laverne would have rolled her eyed. They both already knew that.

A long period of silence. "I'll tell them about the time you and Norman went out to Inspiration Point and..."

After Laverne filled her starved lungs with air, she squinted at Shirley through the bubbly froth covering her face. "You play dirty."

"Only when I have to," Shirley uttered, sitting down on the rim of the tub, near Laverne's toes. "What happened between you and Lenny last night?"

Laverne bit her lip. "You can't tell my Pop..."

"I'd never tell your father anything without your permission."

"Me and Lenny...last night..." 

Shirley let out a squeal of horror.

"That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for," Laverne finished rubbing her stinging eyes. "I should feel as sick as you look, Shirl, but I can't. Last night was wonderful. It was so easy, like it was meant to be, and we were just another couple. And the worst thing is that I think I always knew we were going to do it! Like if we didn't do it then, somehow, we'd end up doing it anyway. Like we were stuck in something so big that it didn't matter how we felt about things - it would happen and we should get used to it."

"Making love with Lenny Kosnowski was like getting a whooping cough shot?"

"No! It was kinda like when you blow too much air into a balloon and it gets really big and it either blows up or you get a big yucky-tasting mouthful of air..."

"Laverne." Without another word, Shirley urged her friend to continue.

"And Len was so nice, and he took a lot of time with me and - and - he was wearing leather pants, Shirl! Leather pants! And I hated it! They made me realize how easy it would be for another girl to get him. How easy it would be for him to change. I could lose him before I even had him - that make sense, Shirl? It's like he's been under my nose the whole time and I ain't seen him 'cause I could've had him..."

"Are you crazy?" Shirley screeched. "You made love with Lenny Kosnowski! You've wanted him to find another girl for years!"

"That's what I learned, Shirl," she took her best friend's hand in hers. "I think I love him - don't scream! But I think I do. Not because I can have him when I want him. Because it felt like I could lose him last night, and if I let him go I'll be making the biggest mistake of my life." She said the words as they came to her, realizing them as she meant them. Her fear gradually dissolved, like the bubbles upon her chest.

"It must be the city," Shirley said moodily. "There's something about New York that's taken me out of my element. I can't wait to get home."

"That's not the only reason you wanna get home," Laverne said sharply. "You're messed up about Antony, and you can't admit it!"

"You don't know how messed up I am!" Shirley wailed. 

Laverne, tired of her best friend's waffling, simply closed her eyes and rested against the tub. "Just let him down, Shirl, before you break his heart."

"It's too late for that," she muttered. "When your father and Edna went to the hospital and Squiggy went off with that bearded girl after the dance, Antony offered to stay here with me so I wouldn't be alone. One thing led to another...."

Laverne's eyes nearly fell out of her head. "No...No! Eww, I don't wanna know about this!"

"He was wonderful. I told him it was my first time, and it felt so special..oh, I'm so confused!"

"Do you think you love him?"

"I don't know. Last night was beautiful..."

"What about Carmine? He's been waiting ten years for you to be ready for him!"

Shirley wailed again, and Laverne wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "Why couldn't it last forever?"

"Shirl, you're scaring me here!" Shirley kept her eyes closed. _"Just what makes that little ol' ant...think he can move a rubber tree plant..."_

"I'm not in the mood," Shirley sniffled.

 _"Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant_...You're smilin', Shirl."

She laughed, which led into a melancholy sort of sigh. "Where did you and Lenny go last night?"

"The rooftop."

"Gee, the roof? I so wanted your first time to be as special, too."

"It was."

"Good."

"Fonzie got me a nice room and everything."

"YOU DID IT WITH FONZIE?"

"And Norman...and a few other guys...Shirl, don't pass out on me," Laverne reached down and unplugged the tub. "Can you get me a towel?" She passed it over. Laverne rubbed herself dry with a few brisk motions and then grinned at her flummoxed best friend. "You don't have to marry a guy just 'cause you vode-o-do-doed. If I did that, I would be Missus Arthur Fonzarelli."

"You don't regret that?"

Laverne grimaced. "We couldn't get through a dinner date without fighting. Marrying him would be like living on a roller coaster - all thrills, no quiet. And as much fun as the thrills are, that's no way to have a marriage, right?" she looped the towel around her middle. "Did what I said get through to you, Shirl?"

She grinned. "What would I do without you, Vernie?"

"Live alone with sixty cats," Laverne grinned. 

"Oh, you," Shirley embraced her sudsy friend. At that point, the bathroom door opened a crack.

"Hey, Laverne, your Pop's back," Laverne winced at the overly-intimate tone of Squiggy's voice. 

"Andrew!" Shirley squealed, nearly breaking Laverne's eardrum. "Don't look! Laverne's not decent!"

"Who cares about Laverne - what about you?"

Shirley left her friend's arms, wrenching the door wider and pulling Squiggy away by his hair worm. His squalling arguments were negated by the louder voice of Frank DeFazio. Laverne sped up her toilette, hoping to reach the outside world with greater speed.

After dressing, she peered out to see her Shirley and Squiggy sullenly eating, while Frank and Edna showed pictures of Philomena's new baby daughter to Lenny. In the kitchen, pots clattered - her Grandmother making breakfast. The excited voices outside made Laverne grin. No matter how the scenery changed, she still had her family.

"You see? She's got your Cousin's eyes," Frank handed Laverne a Polaroid. The baby in the black-and-white photo was curled and wrinkled - an unremarkably shaped lump in whitish blankets. 

"She's a cutie."

"HE," Frank corrected. As Laverne handed the picture back, she caught Lenny staring at her. Cheeks reddened, she managed a small smile. Frank pushed out her chair and she sat beside him. 

"Laverne," Lenny said, very quietly. Whatever he wanted to say was lost in a rapid clap from Frank DeFazio. 

"All right! Everyone around the table! We've gotta talk about strategy!" he bellowed.

Grumbling filed the room. Lenny's eyes pinned Laverne with full sincerity, but it wasn't the time to bring her revelations to light. Grandmother DeFazio entered the room, carrying a platter filled with pancakes. When her eyes lit upon her granddaughter, Laverne felt a keen shame and blushed.

Alessia's smile was all-knowing, fit for both a boardroom and a coffee klatch, and brighter than ever as they sat down together to break bread. 

***

The morning's sunshine felt unbearably hot to Laverne as the competitors for the greased pole competition gathered before her grandmother's building. After breakfast and her father's 'strategy meeting - which proved he had no real plan for the day = she had changed into old jeans and an old blouse. Looking over at Shirley, Laverne realized she had chosen something similarly workmanlike for the day's festivities. Both girls stared at the rickety pipe with trepidation as a group of young volunteers slicked it up and down with engine grease. Shirley's thoughts were a closed box to Laverne - she had become unreadable when Anthony arrived with Laverne's cousins Gino and Mando an hour before. It was obvious that both men were aware of what had transpired between Shirley and their cousin - and if he hadn't spoken a peep, his deferential treatment of Shirley revealed the entire story. 

"Hey, Shirl - can I take you on the Ferris wheel when this is over?"

Shirley's expression froze. She could see Mando and Gino over Antony's shoulder, poking each other and trying to hide their snickering smiles. "Excuse me," she said placidly to Laverne, before pulling Antony away from her friend and to a less densely packed place near the outside corner of her grandmother's stoop. What was said was inaudible, but Antony's eyes were a raging storm when they separated - and Shirley's were as fathomless as wading pools. Laverne's preoccupied mind shrugged it off. They had gone through their 'break up,' and now Shirley could return to Carmine with a clean conscious.

Her thoughts scattered as she caught sight of Lenny, talking avidly with her Grandmother. He had changed into an old white tee shirt and jeans, and was in the process of leaving her his Lone Wolf Jacket. She saw him pointing to the "L" and making large, looping gestures. Her cheeks heated as she wondered what he was saying. At least she seemed to be laughing. 

With less tolerance, Laverne cast worried eyes on her Pop. Frank DeFazio stood directly in front of the pole in a grey sweat suit drenched in sweat from a "warm up run", sizing up the greased pole with the delight of a toddler. 

"Eight feet," Frank uttered. "They call that a greased pole! In my day, they used to be twelve feet!"

"Pop, I don't want you on the bottom," Laverne worried. "You holding up Lenny and me don't seem real possible..."

"Whatt're you talking about? I used to be a shot putter in high school!"

"But now you're sixty now!"

"Age don't mean nothing! It's a number!"

A whistle blew. From the bandstand came "Will Team DeFazio please report to the pole?"

Shirley, Anthony, Lenny, Squiggy, Gino and Mando gathered around Frank. "Remember! Don't touch the pole!" He barked. "That means you two!" he glared at Lenny and Squiggy.

"Gee, you don't gotta tell me twice!" Squiggy complained.

"Yeah, you gotta tell 'em three times!" retorted Lenny.

A whistle blown by a practical-looking man with a clipboard intruded into their midst. "All right - three people climb up at two-minute intervals. Capture the flag before your tower collapses and you win a cruise to Italy. No more than eight people in a pile! When I blow the whistle, you climb."

"All right! Here we go!" Frank cheered. He noticed Laverne had drifted by nature toward Lenny. "Hey, Dopey, you go last!"

Laverne drifted back - it had been a wholly unconscious action on her part. He smiled blandly before the first whistle blew, and Frank and Laverne's cousins made a ring around the pole. Another whistle blew - Lenny and Squiggy's cue to climb up on Frank and Anthony’s shoulders. Lenny did so clumsily - he could feel Frank shifting beneath him. 

Another whistle. The girls ran toward the group of men, carefully climbing up their backs and onto the shoulders of Lenny and Squiggy. Laverne could feel every bone in Shirley's clavicle as she tried to push herself up the pole, belly-down, the toes of her shoes digging into the grease.

Laverne reached out - her fingers were inches from the top of the pole. She met the brunette's eyes. "Shirl!" Laverne cried out. "I can't reach it!"

Shirley reached out, her wrist flailing - her fingers, too, missed the Italian and American flags at the tip of the pole. "Me neither!!"

A horn sounded in the square below. Laverne pressed her cheek to the pole and stared down, her eyes wide with horror as she saw a very familiar-looking pink Cadillac parting the crowd. The curly head behind the wheel was unmistakable. "CARMINE."

Shirley nearly teetered off of Squiggy's shoulders - only his hand on her rear end kept her in place. "What the hell?" she blurted out, and Laverne would have laughed, were she not completely afraid. Grunting and groaning distracted her, and she felt a violent tugging at her ankle. Suddenly, she felt Carmine pulling at her pants, climbing up her legs.

"Shirl!! I've been trying like hell to get in touch with you!" he panted

"Carmine! How - how funny to see you here!" Shirley released an eerie laugh into the air.

Laverne tuned out their ensuing argument - Carmine's angry words were background noise to her. She saw those flags waving, felt them within reach. Carmine was like a weight on her back - double the weight on Lenny's back, she realized. 

"Laverne!" 

She looked down. Lenny's desperate expression said everything. Putting his hand between Carmine and Laverne, he provided her with necessary leverage, cupping her rear end and pushing her up the pole toward the flags. Laverne reached over her head, groped for the top of the poll, and pulled down two little flags!

She nearly cried as the whistle blew! Laverne turned toward the cheering crowd, grinning as she began waving as if for invisible cameras. Carmine and Shirley kept arguing, the pyramid began to collapse, but she had finally done something to earn the DeFazio clan's pride. 

Lenny shook Carmine from his shoulders like a backpack - Carmine simply disengaged himself with Lenny and continued to argue blindly with Shirley. As far as Laverne was concerned, they might have been inhabitants of the moon - they were distant and indistinct, barely real. The world suddenly consisted only of herself and Lenny as he placed her on Gino's shoulders. "You did it! I'm so proud of you!" And then he kissed her, on the mouth and in front of the family. 

And she didn't care.

The warmth of the embrace was suddenly non-extant. Lenny was gone, and she realized that he had tumbled off of poor Gino and to the ground. "Lenny! Are you all right?"

Lenny called up to her, "yeah! Squiggy broke my fall."

"Mommy?" Squiggy mumbled. "Is that you?"

Laverne lowered herself off of poor Gino's shoulders, running over to Lenny and picking him up off of the ground. They were both covered head-to-toe in grease and sweat, but not even that mattered. They had each other, and the world was right and good.

Until a flat, motherly voice came over the public address system. "Attention: The DeFazio family has been disqualified for using an extra participant. The winners of the round-trip cruise to Italy is the Mallaci Family!"

Laverne felt herself wilt in Lenny's grasp. She turned to chastise Carmine, but Shirley was doing a pretty good job of that herself. The entire trip, all of her father's hopes and dreams - gone. She walked toward Frank, who had been celebrating with his mother. "Pop..."

Frank was staring at Lenny. "You! Whatt're you doing with my daughter?"

Lenny came to stand behind Laverne, putting his arm around her. "The sorta stuff that people do when they're in love."

Frank's eyes bugged out. "LOVE? WHATTYA MEAN, LOVE?"

"Fabrizio," his mother's tone was warning. "Leonardo is a fine man. It's good that he loves the bambina!"

"Good?! This character tried to pay my girlfriend the rent in Monopoly money last month! Is that the kinda man who's gonna support my daughter?"

"I don't need Lenny to support me!" Laverne said sharply.

"Vernie," Lenny began. Helplessly, he added, "I love your daughter, Mister DeFazio."

Frank viciously sized up his daughter. "You! You dope! Falling for a meatball like this!"

"Lenny ain't a meatball! You're mad 'cause we lost that trip to Italy - which is Carmine's fault - and now you think Grandma don't like you!"

"Fabrizio..." Alessia began, but he shrugged away from her touch. 

"You! You broke my trust!" he bellowed, charging up the street.

Laverne leaned heavily against Lenny's shoulder. The wind had been sucked from their beings. Alessia watched Frank's retreat with a sigh of disgust. She then looked at the arguing Carmine and Shirley, the confused Anthony, the aching Mando and Gino, and the dazed Squiggy and seemed inspired.

"Come inside. Come inside, everyone! I will make you some tea!"

Carmine and Shirley quit arguing. Gino and Mando looked inspired. Laverne marveled once more at her Grandmother's ability to build nations - and then followed her to the safety of the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food fixes everything.

"Bambino! watch your spoon!"

Laverne jerked the dripping utensil away from her wrist, depositing a splotch of tomato sauce on her grandmother's once-clean stove. "Aww geez - I'll clean it up..." she robotically walked toward the roll of paper towels nailed on a rack near the kitchen sink. Her grandmother stopped her with a hand pressed to her wrist.

"You sit and help Leonardo with the bread. Slice the cheese into thin pieces, remember." Alessia shook her head as she turned back to the sauce, carefully turning over the boiling plum tomatoes. "You see what your Papa does? Always with his temper!"

Laverne had similar thoughts, but she could not bring herself to voice them. He had a reason to be angry. Frank had always labored under the impression that he wasn't good enough to carry the DeFazio family name - that he was somehow half the man his late father was. Everything about the trip had been about impressing Grandma, from Laverne’s faking her knowledge in Italian to her father's bringing Edna as proof of his getting over Josephine. If they had taken the time to consider what sort of person Alessia was, they would have realized that she loved them without fancy airs. 

"He'll come back, Vernie," Lenny said softly. She looked up to see him watching her sympathetically. In this mess, he was the only consistent joy - fixed in her mind as a new love, a new constant to rely on. She squeezed his knee under the table, and then yelped when something damp brushed the back of her palm.

"Maggie," she sighed, petting the dog's soft head. Maggie had lodged herself comfortably between Lenny and Laverne under the table, her head on Lenny's left foot and her back paws resting on Laverne's right. The dog seemed to sense the tension in the room, and preferred to remain close to her master. "He'll come back when he's calm," Laverne replied to Lenny.

Lenny nodded. "I got all this bread done," Lenny handed the tray to Alessia.

"Good, now I put together the _brochette_ ," she turned back to the stove. "Leonardo, please check on Andrew. I think he may need a new ice pack."

Lenny nodded. "Come on, Maggie," he took her leash on his way out of the room. Laverne knew that he hoped to take the dog for a walk and miss the return, and wrath of, her father.

Laverne finished slicing the cheese into slices, carrying the platter to her grandmother. "I'm all done, grandma." As Alessia turned to her, Laverne saw tears slipping down her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"How could he think I don't love him?" Alessia asked her granddaughter reflectively. "Your pappa is my bambino, my only son."

Laverne decided to use the truth to her power. "You're hard on him." Her grandmother's sharp eyes made her wilt a little. "Sometimes. You act like you like me more than you like him."

"Foolishness! I love Fabrizo - I don't show it," she admitted, "but I love him always!"

"Then maybe you should let him know, Grandma," Laverne said quietly. "Before it's too late."

Alessia knew that Laverne still felt the sting of her mother's death - they had never gotten in their goodbyes. "I will, Bambina," she patted Laverne's hand. "Get the cacciatore from the refrigerator - we'll make a big feast for the neighborhood!"

Laverne grinned, then did as her Grandmother bade.

***

The mood in the living room was anything but congenial. Gino and Mando sat at the dining room table, holding ice packs against their shoulders - Squiggy sat opposing them, holding one to the back of his head. Lenny had taken Maggie out for a walk, though his presence was not quite missed by the room's occupants - they were too busy listening in on the three-way fight between Anthony, Shirley and Carmine taking place in the hallway.

"...And I don't care how either of you feel about it!" Laverne heard, as she came out of the kitchen. "I'm not your girlfriend any more, and I was NEVER your girlfriend in the first place - and I certainly won't be, now that I know you told Mando and Gino we...shared lunch together."

"But I never told them we...ate tuna, Shirl, I swear!"

"It's too late. You don't respect my privacy, Anthony! I hope you'll be interested in remaining my friend..."

"I ain't gonna..."

"PLEASE, Anthony," Shirley hissed.

"I...I'll do whatever makes you happy."

"And as for you...How could you mistrust me?"

"Looks like I wasn't too off-base!" The truth in Carmine's voice made Laverne wince.

"You had Leonard follow me around with a camera - look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you - you had Leonard follow me around with a camera, trying to get PROOF that I was cheating on you! How do you think that made me feel?"

"I couldn't be with you - I wanted to see -"

"See if I started acting like you do when I'm not around?" Laverne winced again, sitting beside Squiggy to be better able to hear more and better. "You don't trust me, Carmine, and I don't want to be in a relationship with someone I can't trust."

"I waited for you! I waited ten years for - "

"We both made a mistake," Shirley said coldly. "I believed I could trust you. You believed that I wouldn't take our promise seriously. I did, I was, until I realized you were having me followed. I really loved you, once."

"Now?"

"Now...I don't know how to feel."

"Angelface..."

"Don't. You're trying to soften me up, but I can't let you. I'm going to be mad at you for a very long time."

"Who was Anthony to you, Shirley?"

"A perfect gentleman. Nothing like you. Excuse me." More words were exchanged, in tones too low to hear, and then muffled footsteps sounded. The door opened, and the room's occupants began to busy themselves, pretending not to have heard a thing. Laverne rose to meet Shirley nervously. 

"Shirl, are you okay?"

The brunette's blue eyes were sparkling with tears, but she shook her head. "I'm okay," she said in a bright voice. 

"Where did Carmine go?"

"He said something about driving back to Milwaukee," Shirley explained. "And Anthony’s going home."

"Are you sure you're..."

"I'm fine," Shirley said briskly. "That smells heavenly. Does your Grandmother need help in the kitchen?"

Alessia popped her head out the door. "Could someone help me with the pasta?"

"Me!" Shirley volunteered, walking over and disappearing inside of the kitchen. 

The front door promptly slammed open, admitting a livid Frank DeFazio to the room. Laverne pivoted around stiffly. "Pop..."

He held out a hand. "I ain't mad at you no more," he flopped down on the sofa. "I'm mad at that greasy bum."

"Hey!" Squiggy shouted. "Leave me outta this."

"The other greasy bum!" Frank retorted. "Where is he?"

"Lenny is not a greasy bum!" Laverne protested. "He's my boyfriend!"

"Since when?"

"Since this week!"

"Since this week, she says!" Frank chuckled. "You're telling me you love him, and two weeks ago you were trying to get rid of him! A month before that, he was lying in a gutter outside the Pizza Bowl, waiting for his roommate to finish doing I don't know what to whatever he was out with that night! The man's a bum, Laverne - he ain't good enough for you!"

" _Ma lo amo, Papa!_ " Laverne held her hand over her mouth, stunned by her own outburst. Lenny had entered the apartment, Maggie on a leash, and had heard the meaning in her words, if not their actual content.

"Laverne..." both men in her life said simultaneously, but she had crossed the floor to embrace Lenny. 

" _Me amo,_ " Laverne told Lenny, and kissed his lips gently. Then she turned to her Pop. "If you want grandkids some day, you're gonna have to accept that."

"Grandkids?" A little note of anxiety entered Lenny's voice.

"Later," Laverne said gently. They would have a lifetime of later, as far as she was concerned.

"I thought you didn't know any Italian," Frank said.

"Me neither," Laverne admitted. "It just kinda came out."

"I bet you can't remember anything else," Gino countered smartly.

"You're right," Laverne responded cheerfully. "But I only want to know what I need to know."

Frank watched the two lovers together, silently thoughtful for a moment. "You gotta prove something to me, kid," he said to Lenny. "You gotta prove that you can take good care of my Muffin."

"Pop..."

"I can," Lenny said. "I'll make a good living for us."

"Pop, we're only dating!" Laverne burst out. "You're actin' like we're engaged!"

"Hey, the sooner you do that, the sooner I get grandkids!" he wrapped a bearish arm around Lenny's neck. "How'd you feel about 'Rafaela' for a girl and 'Eddie' for a boy?"

Lenny sputtered beneath Frank's touch. Alessia entered the room, a steaming platter of chicken cacciatore between her oven mitts. "Let's get this chicken outside!" she said brightly.

***

Outside, Grandma DeFazio's neighbors had gathered, setting up tables and putting their homemade goodies out. The brisk air required light jackets for all - or shawls, in Alessia's case. She watched Frank lay out two piles of Chinette as she cut through the cacciatore with a knife.

"Fabrizo," she said softly. "Come, sit by me." she indicated the two folding chairs Mando had dragged out for them before departing with Gino.

Frank reluctantly took his spot beside Alessia. "Nice day," he said idly.

"Nice day for a cruise."

He tensed. "Mama..."

"...I think you might like this," she handed him an envelope. Reluctantly, he pulled it open. 

"Three tickets for the Queen Mary," Frank gasped. 

"I thought you might wanna bring Edna when we go," said Alessia brightly. "She is a charming one."

"You had these tickets the whole time?" Frank blurted out.

"Yes," she said. "But I know how important it is for you to prove your love to me. I don't understand why you don't believe that I love you."

"All my life, you used to say to me - Fabrizio, stand up straight! You shame your Papa when you slouch! Fabrizio, learn your lessons! This D shames your Papa! Ever since he died, I been tryin' to live up to him, I been takin' care of you - and none of it made your proud of me!"

"Of course I'm proud of you!" Alessia said softly. "You're a good man who takes care of his family and loves his mama. I may have been hard on you, but I wanted you to become a great man, and you did," she watched Laverne and Lenny, dancing closely to music piping down from the bandstand. "You gave me a lovely granddaughter, who will give me lovely great-grandchildren. For that alone, I am proud of you."

Frank squeezed his mamma's hand. "I love ya, ma."

"I love you, bambino," she echoed. 

In the silence, they sat meditatively. "When will you make a decent woman out of Edna?" Alessia asked suddenly.

A commotion in the middle of the crowd saved Frank. From the higher pitch of the voices involved, Lenny was the arguer. Alessia was on her feet and in the thick of it in minutes.

"...She's my dog!" Lenny snarled, his fingers caught beneath Maggie's leash.

Staring him down was Wilmer Malachi. "She's mine! I left that mutt...eh...I left her outside and she ran away."

"You liar! She was starving when I saw her - and you had her tied up to a dumpster."

"Lenny's telling the truth!" Laverne interfered. "She was dirty and wet and out in the middle of a rainstorm!"

"Maggot's a dumb dog," Wilmer snorted. "She don't know where she lives. She don't even answer to her name."

"Shows you what you know! Maggie's the smartest dog I ever met."

"Enough with this bullshit - come on, Maggot!" He grabbed Maggie by the collar, and the dog lashed out, trying to bite his hand. "You dumb mutt!" he reared back, ready to hit her. Lenny had thrown himself between the Malachi’s fist and Maggie when a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist.

"You wanna hit a dog, Malachi? You know that's against the law, right?" It was Anthony, his eyes sharp and cool as steel.

"Just 'cause she tried to bite me. She's MY property..."

"Possession's nine-tenths of the law," said Anthony. "And I got at least six witnesses willing to say Lenny's hand this dog for four days."

"I also got an old, rotting piece of clothesline rope and pictures of the welt around Maggie's neck!"

"We got cops in our family, Malachi," Anthony threatened. "Whatta you got? Some hoods, maybe?"

Wilmer sniveled, but pulled himself away from Anthony's hand, trying to remain cool. "Keep the dumb mutt. She should live with someone who has fleas, anyway."

"She don't have fleas - 'course, I'm sure you don't know the difference. Crotch crickets usually end up going to the brain," Laverne retorted.

The wicked snickering surrounding him chased the Malachi’s down the street.

Lenny hugged Maggie. "Guess you're all mine now, right girl?"

She barked happily.

"Why are we all standing around?” Alessia shouted. “On with the festival!”

“Anthony,” said Shirley, “that was such a brave thing to do.”

“Anyone decent would’ve done it,” he shrugged. “And I did it for Lenny.”

“I’m glad we’re going to be friends,” Shirley smiled. Her smile turned to one of disgust as Squiggy planted is head against her shoulder.

“Hey, Shirl, since you’re not attached no more, how’d you feel about doing up a little wing ding with me?”

“When pigs fly.”

“I can make that happen...”

“Go with him,” Anthony shrugged. Shirley did so with a smile.

Someone tuned up Buddy Holly and a whirlwind of dancing and eating began. Shirley with Squiggy, Lenny with Laverne, Frank with Edna. Alessia felt a tapping at her shoulder, and it was Anthony. “Can you dance, Grandma?”

“As well as any girl your age,” she retorted. He took her into the crowd’s midst dancing. 

***

The next morning, Alessia found herself among the family, bustling them through breakfast in preparation of the Monday morning bus.

“Do not forget your guitar, Leonardo!” she scolded. 

“I wasn’t gonna,” he took it back from her. Quickly, he gave her a hard hug. “Thanks, Grandma. If you wanna keep Maggie...”

“It is fate. You are meant to keep her. You treat the bambina well. Make sure she eats!”

“Eating’s the least of my problems!” Laverne retorted, as she emerged from the bedroom. “Edna’s waiting for the cab downstairs - she said it’d be ten minutes.”

“Only ten minutes?” Shirley fretted. “I haven’t finished looking at these brochures!”

“Shirl, there are medical schools in Milwaukee!”

“I know that - I just want to get a feel for what it costs,” Shirley sighed, dropping the pamphlets onto the table. “Thank Cousin Mando for me...”

“You make keep them, Shirley.”

“It’s all right,” she picked up her suitcase. “I won’t be attending school in New York, anyway.”

Laverne took her friend aside. “You wanna stay here, Shirl?”

She had been considering it, but that was a fact that only her best friend knew. “I was thinking about it,” she admitted to the curious stares of Alessia and Lenny. “But I can’t. I don’t have the money.”

“You may stay with me,” Alessia offered grandly.

“No,” Shirley said. “I’m gonna make my own way - no more relying on anyone - especially not men!”

“Not even me, love chops?” Squiggy asked, puckering up.

“Andrew, save your lips for someone who wants them.”

Squiggy rolled his eyes. “Fifi wants ‘em all right - but she’s saving herself for marriage.”

“She told you that?” Lenny asked.

“Yes she told me that,” Squiggy mocked. “She’s a classy girl with principles.”

“And a lotta hair,” Lenny retorted.

“Yeah? You ever see Laverne when she ain't shaved her legs for a week? You ready to start fighting her for the razor every morning?” 

Lenny blushed and looked at his girlfriend. “You know we ain’t that far along!”

“Yeah Squig - we’re dating.” Laverne retorted, pulling the strap of her shoulder bag up.

“Well, I’m gonna keep writing Fifi. She’s a real keeper.”

“Boy, you have a girlfriend - I got a girlfriend - heh, Shirl don’t got a boyfriend.”

“Yeah - that must mean the end of the world’s nigh,” Frank noted tartly, as he entered the room from the bathroom. Below, a horn honked. “Okay! Everybody out!” he looked at Lenny and Squiggy. “You two, what’re you doing with the dog?”

“Oh, we got a real great plan!” Lenny smiled. “We’re putting a coat on Squig...”

“...and some dark glasses...” Squiggy added, putting them on.

“...and we’re gonna pretend Maggie’s a seeing-eye dog!”

“So don’t no one squeal!” Squiggy said, taking the dog’s leash. “’Cmon, mutt.” Maggie pranced Squiggy to the door - but not without banging him into the wall. 

“Lemme help you with your bags,” Lenny said to the girls.

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you, Len,” Laverne said, handing over two heavy suitcases. 

“And you can take these,” Shirley said, looping her purse around his neck. “And this,” she stuck a traveling case under his chin.

“It’s practice for marriage,” Frank told an overloaded Lenny as he followed the girls out the door. Now alone, the mother and son embraced.

“Be easy with him. Do not press him to give your daughter what neither are ready for. Love is like an olive.”

“You’re tellin’ me not to squash their olive?” Frank retorted, and Alessia heaved a sigh.

“I’m telling you to tend their garden,” she said. “And you call me every week! I want to be able to recognize your voice when we go on the cruise next year!”

“Every week! I promise, Ma!”

A horn honked below. “You go and take care of our Laverne.”

At Frank’s departure, Alessia rushed over to the window, just in time to see Lenny and Laverne reach one of the two cabs waiting for them. He pulled open the door and held it for Laverne, then let Frank climb in after her. Alessia waved, and he looked up, his blue eyes lit from within with merriment. He waved, smiled and disappeared from view, but not from her heart.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five Years Later...

**Five Years Later  
Brooklyn, New York**

Lenny Kosnowski cursed himself for the millionth time as his wife's soft groan drifted through the tight seal of her grandmother's bedroom door. It had been three o'clock when Alessia had shepherded him out of the room and locked herself inside it with Laverne and Shirley, instructing him to wait for Frank and, with luck, the doctor. 

What could have gone wrong? What if something really bad had happened, and Alessia thought he couldn't take it? What if she and Shirley were trying to make Laverne's body as presentable as possible? Mother Nature shared his anguished thoughts, making the wind howl and thunder boom with such violence that Lenny worried the building might be torn asunder. 

A soft whimpering at his side drew Lenny out of himself. Maggie rested her grey head on his knee, looking up with soulful brandy eyes, and her master rested his long fingers upon the crown of her head, rubbing gently. The canine recognized the distress in her mistresses' moaning and would occasionally walk over to the door, batting futilely against it with her paw. She had presently given that up and decided instead to stare Lenny down.

"I know." He bent down in his chair, resting his head against Maggies and feeling her gooey tongue lap his cheek. "I'm scared about mommy, too." Maggie continued to give Lenny the saddest look in the world and, desperate to remove himself from her questioning gaze, Lenny resorted to matters most desperate - he dangled his uneaten portion of steak poivre over the dog's mouth. Gratefully, Maggie leapt up to snatch it from his fingers.

If Laverne could see him at that very moment, Lenny mused, she would kill him. The vet had ordered them to cut down on table scraps, as Maggie was five pounds overweight, and this and her advanced age - the vet guessed her to be seven now - contributed to slight arthritis in her back limbs. Unfortunately, neither of them could refuse their dog a thing.

The front door burst open, admitting a soaked and cursing Frank DeFazio to the room. He yanked off his sodden overcoat and hat as Lenny shot to his feet. The curses rolling from Frank's tongue put another knot in his stomach.

"Did Doctor Mattan say he'd come?" Lenny said timidly.

Frank's rantings were not to be interrupted. "That bastard! That no good sunuvabitch! He said it was crazy for me to be walking out in a tropical storm! Told me that no one goes out and it was probably too late - he wasn't gonna risk his neck doing the same thing for me!" Lenny swayed alarmingly. He felt a stinging slap to his jaw and came about right away. "He told me to stay at his place till the eye went over, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna stay in close quarters with that coward."

"Calm down," Lenny said, and on shaky legs he walked over to Alessia's liquor cabinet, taking out a small bottle of absinthe she saved for important occasions. Lenny took out two shot glasses and poured one for each of them of the foul-looking liquid, then carried one over to Frank. 

"This is Mama's good booze," he said worriedly. 

"Will it get me blotto?" Lenny asked.

"Oh yeah!" Frank watched his son-in-law gulp the shot down with all speed. "Don't you worry, kid - my mamma delivered Laverne. She was a midwife in the old country for years, and not one baby died in her hands."

"There's a first time for everything," said Lenny gloomily. Frank took a long look at the sad-eyed young man his daughter had chosen to wed and realized once more how much he loved Laverne - and was glad of the union. 

Frank clapped Lenny on the shoulder. "Hey, I say it's gonna be all right - and what I say, I mean, capiche?"

Lenny smiled shakily. "At least you won't have to worry about not having a grandchild!" He remembered the past five years of his life with a laugh and a shake of his head. The two of them had gotten engaged a year and a half after returning to Milwaukee, and had been married less than six months after that, in a haste that some in Laverne's family considered speedy but had been driven by their lack of money. He learned later that most folks in the family thought the union was a shotgun wedding - and when no baby arrived after in nine months, much confusion set in.

They were equally confused by Laverne's continued insistence on working outside the home after marriage. It wasn't something Lenny was going to throw himself in her way over - every bit of money helped. While he took his dispatcher's test and ended up making an extra five bucks an hour, Laverne was laid off from the capping line. It had caused the young marrieds no amount of anxiety, as their little apartment required both salaries for maintenance and upkeep. Finally, out of desperation, Laverne took Carmine's advice and auditioned for a small -and paying- part in the Milwaukee Modern Tap Company. Despite being of an "advanced age", Laverne won out, and ended up being employed on a regular basis - to her dismay, cast as the "older woman" and in "grandmother" roles at twenty-six. It was just enough to pay all the bills and give them breathing room.

Of all of them, Carmine had changed the most. After his break-up with Shirley, he became a workaholic, developing his branch of the Marjorie Wards chain into something phenomenally successful. So successful that he had opened a second branch in the suburbs - Carmine's Marjorie Ward - which was doing better business than the urban chain. Luckily for the Kosnowskis, Carmine always felt a little guilty about paying Lenny to spy on Shirley during the New York trip, and when the Repertory was between shows Laverne took work with Carmine.

It was Carmine who had encouraged Lenny and Laverne to think of moving to New York, where Laverne could get a job in a chorus line, but neither of them wanted to gamble so much on so few opportunities. Lenny sometimes worried that it was his fault Laverne wasn't reaching her possible full potential, but his wife emphatically blamed him for nothing. Which was a miracle - she blamed herself for too much.

In the first year of their marriage, after much trying, Laverne became pregnant. The both of them had gone into a frenzy of preparation and excitement, only to have their dreams dashed when Laverne miscarried in her second trimester. 

For Laverne, it was proof that she was a dope, unsuccessful, useless. She had spiraled into a depression and Lenny dragged her to the only therapist he knew of - the Shotz company psychiatrist. After another year and a half of counseling, she felt ready to try again - that had resulted in this latest pregnancy.

For the umpteenth time, Lenny cursed Doctor Milo Green and his insistence that it would be safe for Laverne to travel. Their annual summer vacation in the city had fallen within a month of Laverne's due date, but he felt that the baby was progressing along the lines of an eight-monther, as he put it, which made the baby sound like cattle. Lenny had been anxious to go, but Laverne's ease of manner had mollified him - not to mention Alessia's fine cooking and her stories. No one had dared to imagine that Laverne's water might break, or had predicted that a strong tropical storm would strike, preventing any sort of progress outside.

Laverne moaned again, and Lenny shot up out of chair. "I'm going in there!"

"Trust me, son, you don't wanna see that," Frank said, humor in his voice. He picked up a copy of _Life_. "Wouldya look at this? Liz Taylor's divorcing Richard Burton already!"

"How can you be so calm?"

Frank shrugged. "Babies take a long time. Your wife took two days coming into the world..."

"TWO DAYS?" Lenny clutched Frank's shoulders. "I CAN'T TAKE TWO DAYS OF THIS!"

Frank shoved Lenny back into his dining room chair, upsetting Maggie, who trotted over to Frank's side and nudged him with her nose. "It takes as long as it's gonna take," said Frank, as he rubbed the dog's back. "What're you worried about? Shirley's in there, and she's got doctor training."

Lenny occasionally forgot about that - that Shirley Feeney had immediately taken up night school classes again upon getting back to Milwaukee - this time with the intention of becoming a real, full-fledged nurse with an eye to joining the obstetrics field. She had told them all that she planned on taking her last rotation on the pediatrics ward - in her fourth year of training, she nearly had enough credits to graduate to being an actual nurse.

"I just don't know how you can be calm," said Lenny. "Only a real moron could stay calm at a time like this!"

On cue, the front door burst open, admitting Squiggy into the living room. He wore a bright yellow slicker and fisherman's hat and carried a large box of bubblegum cigars under his arm. "Hello!" he peered out from under his saturated hat. "Aww, the kid ain't here yet?"

"Nope," Lenny miserably said.

"You mean I walked all the way from Fifi’s place for nothing?" Squiggy complained. "Whatta rip-off!" he slammed the sopping box of bubblegum cigars onto the dining room table, where they made an unappealingly sloppy mess. 

"How is Fif?" asked Lenny.

"Let's just say she's crazy about me."

"How crazy?"

"Crazy enough," Squiggy said proudly, as he straddled another dining room chair, "to say she'll move to Milwaukee with me."

"Really? Aww gee, that's great!"

"Yeah, well, you left a big hole in my life, roomie - a big, thirty-dollar shaped hole..."

"Riiight..."

"So I got her a job lined up with uncle Elliot's wax museum! She's gonna be a showgirl!"

"A bearded showgirl?" asked Frank sarcastically.

"And why is that so hard to believe? Fifi has talent! She has charisma!"

"She has a hairy chest!"

"How did you know that?" Squiggy seemed so crestfallen that Frank could do nothing but sigh at him.

Anthony DeFazio poked his head out of the kitchen door. "Hey, is the kid here yet?" He laughed when all three men jumped at the sound of his voice. "Sorry - I came up the fire escape."

"Nothing yet," Lenny said tiredly. "And yeah, that means Shirl's too busy to see you."

Anthony grumbled at this news. He and Shirley had been trading letters back and forth, in a friendly but noncommittal way. It had been clear to Lenny during their joint vacation that Anthony wanted more than Shirley was willing to give at this point. He couldn't quite fathom that Shirley wanted to have an identity outside of motherhood and wifehood - an idea that stood on a new, shaky foundation of hope. 

Suddenly, Shirley entered the living room, her white smock and green gloves dotted with blood. The tears in her eyes alarmed Lenny over anything, and he was on his feet and had her by the shoulders in a second.

"What happened?!"

"Life!" blubbered Shirley. "I had life in my hands!"

Lenny all but pitched Shirley to the floor and climbed over her, running to the guest bedroom and throwing open the door. 

On the bed lay his wife, her hands white as she clutched the backboard. He was completely unconscious of the fact that she was naked from the waist down, and that her grandmother crouched on the floor between her legs, holding something slimy, with wriggling arms...pulling it out of his wife.

"Len!" his wife screamed. 

"Vernie," he reached out for her and tripped over a discarded chair. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, and she grabbed him with her left hand. 

"You're not supposed to be here," she panted.

"Laverne!" Alessia shouted. "One push! The new bambino is nearly out!"

Lenny released her hand, putting his arm around her shoulders and supporting her back as she made one final effort. The baby emerged completely, a chubby, red-stained, motionless thing. Horror gripped Lenny, and he reached out to take her from Alessia. But the older woman took the baby up against her shoulder, smacking it three times upon the back. A little coughing noise came, then a long, deep, lusty wail. 

"There we are!" Alessia said, relief filling her voice. She got off of her knees and walked over to the chest of drawers, where she began to clean the baby, humming soothingly to it.

Lenny had his wife in his arms, and they were both somewhere between laughter and tears. "You did it, baby," he said to her softly. 

"Yeah," Laverne said, scooting up until she rested against his torso, "once I started, I couldn't stop." He noticed the tears in her eyes as she watched the wriggling infant as it was measured by its great-grandmother. 

"I know who you're thinking of," Lenny said. He rested his chin against her shoulder, keeping the quiver from his voice. "I think he's watching over us."

Lenny rarely brought up the little boy they'd lost - it was a wound so deep that it had nearly broken them apart. She kissed his cheek, licking away a tear. "I love you." 

He said in an exhalation, "how do you feel?"

"How do I feel about loving you?" she responded sarcastically, and he laughed. "I feel...hungry," she admitted. "And really excited. Like I could swim to Russia."

"You won't be doing that for a long time, principessa," said Alessia, as she gently laid the baby on her kitchen scale. With a smile, she recorded the weight on a piece of yellow notepaper. "Eight pounds, nine ounces - sixteen inches long!"

Lenny was impressed. He needed to finish caring for Laverne first. "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded, craning her neck. "I wanna see the baby..."

Lenny climbed around the bed, ignoring the mess on the blankets and sheets on the floor. "How is it? WHAT is it?"

Alessia smiled fondly. She held the infant in a large Pyrex bowl and was washing the refuse from its body. "I think," she said, as she gently ran a sponge over the baby's torso. "That this little girl is more Kosnowski than DeFazio."

Lenny felt a touch of relief - a little girl, not another little boy - then looked down into the half-opened baby blue eyes and fell instantly in love. "Hi, honey," he whispered, extending his ring finger and carefully running the finger over her cheek. As Alessia finished washing her, Lenny tried to match each feature back to his wife - she had Laverne's eyes and her chin, and his nose and ears. The rest were quickly obscured as Alessia picked the now-clean infant up and turned, intending to hand the baby to him.

"Here is your papa, bambina," said Alessia quietly. Lenny took the infant into his arms and stared down into her face with dumbfounded wonder, half afraid he might break her by mistake. After a long moment of silence, punctuated only by a particularly loud clap of thunder, Alessia interjected, "Leonardo, maybe you should put a diaper on her."

"Oh? Oh!" He turned back to the dresser and automatically began to dress the baby in a cloth diaper. Alessia watched judiciously as he pinned it in place, making sure he remembered every word of her weeklong lecture in How To Keep a Baby Dry. Once dressed, Lenny swaddled the baby in a yellow blanket that Alessia had been knitting since she received word of Laverne's second pregnancy. As Lenny bonded with his daughter, Alessia began cleaning up Laverne, carrying the extra sheets out to be laundered, anxious murmurings were punctuated with a few shouts of confusion on seeing Alessia, but the woman said nothing as she reentered the bedroom.

"The are thrilled to see the new one," Alessia said softly. 

"Them?! _I_ can't see!" Lenny heard Laverne saying, and he broke from his reverie and carried the baby back to his wife. Very gently, he lay her against Laverne's chest and knelt down on the floor beside her. 

A play of emotions crossed his wife's face - sublime and tender. She stroked the baby's back, listening to the child's soft mewling noises. "I don't believe she's real," Laverne said finally.

"She is," Lenny said quietly. "And she's perfect."

Laverne gently pulled the blanket back a little, looking into the child's face. "She looks like you," Laverne said. At that note, the baby wailed, puckering her lips. "And she's got your appetite," her mother added wryly.

"Yeah? She's got your eyes. You want me to go tell the good news?" Lenny asked. Laverne shook her head. 

"Grandma?"

"I will go," Alessia said quietly. "Congratulations, _me amos_ ," said Alessia, before she exited the room and left Laverne and Lenny quite alone with their child.

Lenny felt quite useless as Laverne unbuttoned her blouse, shrugging it off and exposing her milk-engorged left breast. She fed the baby her nipple, then leaned back against the propped up pillows and sighed dreamily. 

Lenny wanted to cry. He had a family now. His greatest dream was a reality.

Laverne turned her head. "When I'm done, I wanna change the sheets under me. Can you...gimmie a sponge bath?" 

A slight glimmer appeared in his eye, but he knew enough to keep improper thoughts to himself. "Okay..." once the baby had finished her meal, Laverne burped her, then handed the infant back to her husband. Lenny took a moment to admire her once more before lying her back in the bassinet.

Silently, his wife held out a hand to him, and he helped her from the bed to a chair, where she undressed herself and watched as he stripped off the sheets and tucked on a new, fresh set. Once they had clean sheets, he helped her lay back down, then dipped his sponge into a second Pyrex bowl left behind by Alessia.

"You remember the last time I did this?" Lenny asked, as he wicked away the sweat beading his wife's brow.

"Uh huh," said Laverne. "Our honeymoon. They didn't have no showers in our motel," she grinned. "Sorry it's not gonna end the same way."

"Surprises are fun," Lenny laughed. "You worked real hard, and I'm real proud of you."

Once her body was clean, Lenny plucked a nightshirt from Laverne's suitcase, then helped her into it. When she was covered, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I made a good choice," Laverne said quietly, as he tucked her back in. 

"I made a better one," said Lenny. He sat down in an abandoned chair beside her. "What the heck was Shirl yelling about when she got into the living room?"

"She got to touch our daughter's head and help it out," Laverne smiled. "It overwhelmed her a little."

"I thought you were a goner..." Lenny stopped himself. He wouldn't allow his thoughts to mar such a beautiful day. 

"I'll kick her in the shins for you," Laverne yawned. The voices outside the door became louder, and she roused herself. "I think we got company."

Indeed, Alessia could barely hold back the incoming flood of friends and relatives. "You want some visitor?"

"Do we got a choice?" Laverne joked.

Into the room burst Frank, Shirley, Squiggy and Anthony. Their cacophony of voices melded into a perfect howl, and Laverne could not understand the one of them.

"HOLD IT!" she shouted, demanding silence. "The baby's over there!" A cluster of grandparents, aunts and uncles formed around the old cradle. 

Frank finally said, "Hey, she got your eyes, Laverne!" 

"That's what he said," smiled Laverne. "But I think she looks like Len. Bring her over to me - I miss her."

Frank managed to scoop up the baby and carry it over to his daughter. "Boy, wait 'til I tell Edna she missed the big show - she's never gonna go to visit Amy alone again!"

"She should have brought Amy here," Laverne said. "I want her to meet the baby."

"I know, but she don't want her traveling too far," said Frank. He tickled the baby's chin. "Cootchie coo! She smiled at me!"

"Pop, that's just gas."

"That ain't gas! I know a smile when I see it!"

"Hey Shirl," Squiggy was saying, "you owe me a nickel!"

"What for?"

"Waddya mean, what for? You bet me that it was gonna be a boy - I picked girl. Therefore, it's the land of the law that you buy me either a nickel or box of Abba-Zabba!"

Shirley rolled her eyes. "Is that the lay of the law now?"

"Yes!"

She sighed, but then sat by Laverne, squealing at the sight of her new goddaughter. "She's so pretty, Laverne - thankfully, she got Lenny's nose."

"Oh gee, thanks," Laverne snorted. 

"Hey Len, I owe you a beer, man!" said Anthony from the back of the crowd. Shirley startled at the sound of the young man's voice, meeting his eyes inadvertently. He smiled at her. She smiled back. Laverne wanted to ask what that was about when Maggie charged into the room, barking, clearly overjoyed as she planted her paws on the bed and began frantically licking Laverne's chin. "Hi, Maggie!" She nuzzled the dog, her arms occupied in holding the baby. 

"See the baby, Maggie?" asked Shirley, her voice high-pitched. The dog whimpered at the sound of Shirley's voice, but stared curiously into the baby's face. She lapped the tips of the baby's fingers curiously, and then took one long sniff. Satisfied that the infant was no threat, she curled up on the bed beside Laverne.

"Good thing we had that practice doll," Laverne noted. "Hey! Ain't anyone curious about what we named her?"

Silence overtook the room. 

"Well," Lenny said casually, "we had two names picked out - for girls and boys. So now that we got a girl, I guess that eliminates one set..."

"So, long story short - this is Alice May Kosnowski." 

"Alice May! Simple! I like it," said Frank.

"We knew you would, Pop." Laverne said. "I think we all know who the Alice is for..."

Alessia bent over the dog and held her granddaughter. "I'm honored, bambina."

"That's nice, but - who's the May short for?" Squiggy asked.

"Well..." Lenny said.

"Uh..." Laverne continued. "May is a form of Margaret...which is short for..."

Four sets of incredulous eyes pinned down the happy couple. "Maggie?" They cried together.

The dog, on hearing her name, perked up ears and barked.

"Laverne," Shirley said, a fake laugh caught in her throat. "You really don't mean to name your daughter after a DOG, do you?"

They looked to each other and shrugged. "She kinda brought us together," Laverne stated.

"LAVERNE!" Frank protested.

"Lenny!" accused Shirley. Squiggy and Anthony had fallen to their knees in laughter, and she smacked them both on the back of the neck. "Stop encouraging them!"

The room filled with arguing, bantering voices. Amused but wanting to give the baby peace, Alessia took Alice from her granddaughter and carried the baby to the bedroom window.

Outside, the wind had ceased to howl - the sun had broken through low, dark hanging clouds. Doctor Mattan stood on her stoop, far too late arriving but technically still necessary. Children began to emerge into the late day sun, the storm behind them, enjoying what was left of summer, preparing for a new festival season and the parades, fireworks and games they would bring.

"Welcome to the family, little one," Alessia said. "Welcome to the world."

Alice slept through this little speech, the little argument behind her - placid and sweet as a spring meadow. But she smiled, and Alessia believed she heard it all - and agreed with every word.


End file.
